


The Breach of Vale

by Mawkish_Warden



Category: RWBY
Genre: Codex Entries, Gen, Headcanon, Military Science Fiction, Volume 2 (RWBY), Volume 2 Finale Novelisation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawkish_Warden/pseuds/Mawkish_Warden
Summary: Your people have risen to create civilisations meant to last an eternity. You have erected walls and groomed your young to fight, making the old and weak forget about the monsters that hunger for their souls. You know it's only a matter of time before your illusion of safety is shattered forever. Let me show you that the time has come. Let me show you that it's time for war.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a retelling and reinterpretation of Volume 2's finale.
> 
> I'd like to preface this by saying I know very little about anything that happened in RWBY after Volume 4.
> 
> If this turns you off this story, I understand, but hope you will nevertheless give it a chance.

General James Ironwood continued his easy walk to the _ASA (Aerial Ship of Atlas)_ _Resolute_ 's bridge. Keeping pace with him on his left was Vice Admiral Kenchiro Yamazaki. Despite hailing from differing service branches, they'd both attended Atlas Academy. Now, nearing the peaks of their respective careers, they were becoming increasingly involved with the heads of state, allowing for frequent run-ins to once more shake hands and catch up. Of course, with Kenchiro's recent assignment of escorting James' students to Vale for the Vytal Festival, they'd had more than enough time to fill each other in on their recent endeavours, and were now just making small talk.

"I heard there was an incident in the mess hall," James said.

Kenchiro pursed his lips.

"Yes. Hydroponics brought in a bad batch, and the cooks didn't catch it until it was already on the stove. The resulting smell was enough to put three bulkheads on lockdown until it could be vented."

James nodded. "At least it wasn't spoiled meat they were burning."

Yet, he failed to prevent the smirk at the idea of having to explain to the JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff) and Atlas Council how a bunch of rotten vegetables had resulted in one of their prized warships going down in flames.

The Admiral saw the twitch of his lips and rolled his eyes.

"Oh please. As if your students haven't done worse."

Before James could respond, they arrived at the bridge's entrance. A pair of guards stationed on either side of the entryway stood to attention. Kenchiro and James, one by one, placed their hands on the door's scanner for identification. After a moment, the lights on the frame blinked green and it opened with a hiss of hydraulics.

At once, their ears picked up the gruff voice of one of the bridge guard detail calling out, "Attention on deck!" followed by another set of salutes from the personnel.

Said Admiral dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"As you were," he said, and activity returned to normal. They headed to the command chair, where Kenchiro sat down and James stood next to him in the 'at ease' position. They glanced at the bridge's main holotable, where the _Resolute_ and its escorts were outlined, floating above Beacon Academy. It was quite the sight to behold. James was currently on Atlas' most advanced vessel to date. Even from the projections, he could feel the atmosphere radiating from the _Resolute's_ superstructure. A sense of security, fortitude, and above all, power.

Of the three words, it was only the last one that gave him pause. When the Council had authorised his request for a security force, he'd expected two, maybe three, small ships to lead him to Vale. What he'd gotten was nineteen, two of which were capital-grade. And this wasn't even mentioning the noticeable Army detachment on top of the Marines and synthetic Atlesian Knights (usually referred to as AK Legionnaires) already stationed on the fleet.

James was a military man, there was no denying that. But even he'd done a double take at the hardware and manpower Atlas was willing to 'provide' him with. Some might have called it a symbol of camaraderie, a gesture to strengthen their defensive pact with Vale. James preferred to call such lines of thinking ludicrous. He knew that the Council would never send so many of their treasured men and ships overseas without a more tangible goal.

Tensions had been growing between the four Kingdoms. Ever since Atlas had begun assisting Vale in remilitarising itself, Remnant had been slowly falling apart. That was why they'd sent Kenchiro and the 7th Aerial Fleet. The upcoming Vytal Festival would be an international event viewed from all corners of the world, to showcase the best and brightest from every Kingdom. But Atlas wouldn't be displaying just their culture or academics. They were going to make this a show of force.

He felt Kenchiro's eyes on him, and his mind wandered to a previous conversation.

* * *

"Trust me, James," the Vice Admiral said, "I don't like this either."

"They said it was a supplementary force," James muttered.

"And I advised against sending the 7th, but the Council–"

"The Council wanted a gunboat diplomat," he cut him off.

Kenchiro sighed, unable to deny his assertion, but no less frustrated at the friction this was causing between them.

"I want to protect these people," James continued. It was clear that Kenchiro understood he wasn't referring to just the citizens of Atlas. "Not subjugate them."

A tight smile formed on Kenchiro's expression.

"Which is why I'm glad I was assigned to someone who won't be badgering me every five seconds to strut our ships around like peacocks."

James looked away, grateful for his colleague's faith, but unable to shake off the concern lining his stomach.

* * *

"Admiral, sir."

James and Kenchiro looked up at the Communications Offcier's voice.

"Go ahead Comm-O," Kenchiro said.

"We've receiving an emergency signal from the VPD (Vale Police Department). It's strong. City-wide."

James frowned. What in the world would cause the entire city to go on alert?

"Play it," Kenchiro ordered.

"Aye, sir."

All voices ceased as the bridge's speakers came to life.

"Attention residents of Vale. This is the VPD (Vale Police Department). There has been a Grimm Breach in the Residential District. If you are present within-"

James couldn't hear the rest of it. His head was spinning too fast. Everyone had heard the stories of towns and villages being overrun by the Grimm. As both an officer in the Atlas Army, and the headmaster of Atlas Academy, James had lost count of the number of times he'd been notified of distress calls from such isolated populaces. Sometimes, their forces would arrive too late, with nothing but the sight of corpses and rubble to hammer their failure home.

But Vale was one of 'The Big Four'. It, along with Mistral, Vacuo, and Atlas were the most well-defended places on the planet. Surrounding its borders was a triple-layered set of walls, each one taller than the one in front of it. The walls themselves were separated from each other by at least half a kilometre to allow for the automated defences and sentry personnel to gun down any wanton Grimm daring to scale or crash through the colossal barriers. Even the open kill-zones were littered with mines and traps to eliminate or hinder the creatures. Anti-air batteries could be found all over the city, remaining vigilant for flying threats who didn't have to worry about trying to smash through the city's outer perimeter. And that was only the declassified information Vale was prepared to let the public know.

The last time Vale had experienced a breach was two decades ago, when their ambitious expansion into Mountain Glenn had ended in a catastrophic massacre. James himself had been a 2nd Lieutenant back then, fresh out of OCS (Officer Candidate School), and just trying not to trip over his own shoelaces while leading his platoon. His unit had been one of many dispatched by Atlas to provide military and humanitarian aid to the reeling citizens of Vale. In a rare display of international cooperation, they, Vacuo, and Mistral had banded together in a time of crisis to help their rival Kingdom.

And here they were again, listening to an automated voice all too clinically informing them of another attack. Another breach. Another massacre. Another failure.

His ears tuned back in, just in time to hear the broadcast's final words.

"–your scroll and ID Card. Be aware of your surroundings. Remain alert."

The transmission went on a loop after that, repeating its message. He couldn't help but keep listening to it. His eyes flicked between the bridge personnel. They were the same, with slackened expressions and motionless limbs. They were dazed, trying to comprehend, maybe even denying, what they'd just heard.

"No."

It took a moment for him to realise the word had come from his own lips. It had been a whisper. A soft exhale of air passing as a syllable. For a second, his mind thrashed out wildly, clawing at thin air, searching for something to anchor it back to reality. Then he found it.

_No._

"No," he said again, louder this time. Kenchiro turned his way, slowly. He, like James was coming back from the blow. But it wasn't quick enough.

"No."

He was speaking to himself, as much as the people around him. He needed to act. He needed to move.

In the back of his mind, James was aware the choice he was about to make wasn't exactly sanctioned by the Council or JCS back in Atlas. To reflect its flexible nature, Kenchiro's 7th Aerial Fleet was given more leeway than usual to operate as they saw fit. But even so, 'activating' their whole arsenal of ships and personnel on another Kingdom's territory was way out of their jurisdiction. It had taken months of planning and negotiations for Vale's Council to permit the presence of so many of Atlas' military assets. But actually sending them groundside without the mutual consent of his and Vale's governments could be seen as tantamount to a declaration of war.

James didn't care.

He marched over to the Communications Officer. Seizing him by the arm, he put himself right up against the younger man's face. "Battle stations. Now!"

Atlas had seen fit to send so many of their forces in a petty attempt to project their military might. Right now, Vale was bleeding, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to use those same forces to help them. If he got court martialled for this, then so be it.

His command had been short and brutal. Even if he did technically outrank Kenchiro, James wasn't even sure if he was allowed to make it. But again, he didn't care. It acted as the catalyst they needed for the bridge to explode into action. If there was anyone who opposed his call to arms, they hid their dissent well. James hoped it was because of their commitment to the defence of human life, Atlesian or otherwise, rather than blind or fearful obediance.

Behind him, James heard, "I want all ships to converge on the _Resolute_. Helmsman. Bring us about to bearing 135. Lee Helmsman. Ahead half."

Gone was the familiar face of his friend and colleague Kenchiro. In its place was the stalwart visage of Vice Admiral Yamazaki of the Atlas Navy's 7th Aerial Fleet.

"I need our MAARG set to deploy ASAP," the Admiral continued. "Ready the AK Legions and prep our aircraft for launch!"

MAARG stood for Marine Air Assault Ready Group. It was composed of Atlas' 5th Marine Expeditionary Unit. In the event the 7th Fleet needed a groundside presence, they were the ones sent in to occupy the necessary areas.

"General Ironwood." James looked up from where he'd let the communications officer go. "Before we engage the Grimm, we'll need to coordinate with the rest of the response force. I'll need you and Colonel Yun to contact Ozpin and cut through the red tape, so we can link up with Vale's police and military."

James nodded. Colonel Harold Yun was in charge of the IBCT (Infantry Brigade Combat Team) the Council had attached as part of his 'security detail'. The irony that, not two minutes ago he was lamenting their decision to send so many troops, wasn't lost on him. He speed-dialled Ozpin's number. After a single ring, his fellow headmaster answered.

"Ozpin–" James started.

"I know. I'm assembling my students now. They'll be heading out soon."

"What?" James shouted. The man couldn't be serious! "Ozpin, some of them are just children!"

"I know what you're about to do James," came the curt reply. "You'll need more troops. And right now, they're the largest group of fighters that can accompany your fleet."

James realised, with equal amounts frustration and dread, that Ozpin was right. With their AKs, Marines, and attached Army IBCT, the 7th Fleet could deploy a little over five thousand combatants. Acting independently from its central command structure back in Atlas, they'd be able to hit the Grimm in force within half an hour. But it was that independence that would also come back to bite them. Their forces were small – well trained, well equipped, and battle hardened, yes – but without anywhere near the numbers of their numerous divisions based in their home city, they would eventually be overrun. This was infinitely more so the case, since using their naval armaments on any ground and most air targets was out of the question, due to the presence of civilians.

James had no idea how big the Breach was. But by the time they reached it, the Grimm could easily be numbering in the tens of thousands. Against those numbers, the Atlesians would hold, but eventually crumble. Vale's military, largely oriented to handle external threats, would require time to start moving sufficient numbers of troops, and even more time to actually begin pushing back against the Grimm. But Beacon Academy could muster nearly a hundred and fifty students. They were young and inexperienced, but nevertheless deadly warriors and force multipliers who could keep up with his men. Alone and divided, both his soldiers and Ozpin's students would fall to the oncoming horde. Together, they stood a chance of stemming the tide until Vale's military could shift the balance back in their favour.

"Fine," he relented, "but I'll also need your help with setting up a joint operation with the VPD and CSC (Chiefs of Staff Committee – Vale's equivalent of Atlas' JCS). There's no time to go through official channels and we need a coordinated plan."

"I've alerted the necessary people," said Ozpin. James almost sagged in relief. Different ideals they may hold, but the two of them had worked together long enough to know how to pull through for each other when it mattered. "Expect a request for a war conference in a few minutes."

"Thank you," he said, before ending the call. From somewhere else in the bridge, he heard someone say that the area of the Breach had been scanned. A glance at the holotable revealed the Residential District, with its high rises and crowded roads. While most of the projection was blue, there was a small red section, right on the district's edge. It was where the Breach had occurred. Rapidly, as more and more Grimm were detected, the red spread, gushing through buildings and streets like an expanding pool of blood.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The 7** **th** **Aerial Fleet**

Formed in 70 AGW (After the Great War), the 7th Fleet is, by far, the youngest strategic formation within the Atlas Navy. Compared to the other Fleets, it is small, composed of only a single Task Force, of fourteen permanent ships.

Its flagship, the A _SA Resolute_ , is a state-of-the-art carrier-command vessel, the first of its kind. Its structural frame was designed around its own secondary CCT (Cross-Continental Tower), granting it the ability to create and hold a secure communication link with any device on Remnant near another CCT. Its centralised communications hub and the absurdly large amount of data it can process make it possible to serve as the designated headquarters of an entire region.

The _Resolute_ is surrounded by a complement of four Lancer-class Destroyers, two Beherzt-class Cruisers, three Matthew Evergreen-class Escort Frigates, and one Indomitable-class Dreadnought. Additionally, it is capable of launching scores of aircraft for an additional layer of defence. The combat ships are accompanied by a group of three vessels transporting around two thousand Atlas Marines from the 5th Expeditionary Unit. Every ship in the fleet also carries a number of mechanical Atlesian Knight combat platforms. Although the exact quantity of AKs has yet to be disclosed, their ability to be stored in compact forms would theoretically provide a welcome boost to the 7th's organic manpower.

Whereas all fleets are created with the intent of defending their respective Kingdoms, the 7th Aerial Fleet was formed with the purpose of operating outside of Atlas' borders. Acting somewhat independently of the main structure of the Atlas military, it has thus far completed two six-month deployments as the core of an expeditionary force accompanying researchers in studies of the Grimm more than three hundred kilometres from Atlas' walls. It has also proven itself as a QRF (Quick Reaction Force), coming to the aid of settlements and towns in minutes, whereas more centralised forces would have taken at least an hour to respond accordingly and effectively.

Currently, the 7th Aerial Fleet has been acting as an escort for General James Ironwood and his students of Atlas Academy on their journey to Vale for the Vytal Festival. In addition to Atlas Academy's transports, the fleet was also joined by five ships holding over four thousand men of the 15th IBCT to serve as further security for both General Ironwood's students and the Vytal Festival, in light of a recent surge of activity from the White Fang and other terrorist and organised criminal elements. While there has been vocal international concern as to the implications of such a prominent display of force, the Atlas Council has stated that the deployment of the 7th Aerial Fleet is a sign of international cooperation and the celebration of the two Kingdoms' coexistence.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jaune tumbled out of bed, his first thought was that someone had tampered with his alarm clock because there was no way it had been _that_ loud before. Extracting his limbs from the sheets that had fallen with him, he covered his ears and looked around his team’s dorm. He saw Ren, already up and buttoning his tailcoat. Pyrrha, who had also been startled awake, had fared slightly better than him, merely jolting into consciousness rather than face planting into the carpet. Nora was nowhere to be seen.

Amidst the racket, Jaune stumbled his way to Ren and mouthed, “What’s going on?”

Ren merely shook his head and pointed to the closet, signalling Jaune to get dressed in his own combat attire.

Sensing the urgency in his non-verbal reply, Jaune reached for his jeans and hoodie. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pyrrha race into the bathroom to don her own gear.

When he was strapping on his chestplate, the alarm stopped. Jaune was about to let out a sigh of relief, only to wince when an automated voice that was just as loud replaced the brief silence.

_“All students from Beacon Academy and Atlas Academy to report to staff at the landing pads in their teams with their weapons, armour, and scrolls. All students–“_

The voice repeated itself twice more before reverting back to the alarm.

“Nora and I were up when the alarm sounded,” Ren said. “She’s waiting outside.”

When Pyrrha came back in her battle gear, the three of them sprinted out the door, where Nora joined them. On the way to their locker rooms, they saw other students making their way down the hallways. Their run was silent, none of them wanting to waste their breath on questions they knew the others didn’t have satisfactory answers to.

Upon reaching their lockers, they sorted through the mass of bodies that were retrieving their weapons. Jaune punched his key code into his own locker, grabbed Crocea Mors and fastened it to his hip.

* * *

The landing pads were in chaos. Jaune could see VTOL (Vertical Take-off and Landing) craft numbering in the dozens. One by one, they were taking students into their passenger compartments, which were quickly covered by retractable armoured doors.

He’d grown quite familiar with the Bullheads Beacon used to ferry them around. But these were different – bulkier, more menacing. In the air, there were more circling around as they waited for clearance to land. Every now and then, one would flare its engines to ascend and have its open landing space be taken by another seconds later. So many times, Jaune could see a mid-air collision or a botched touchdown about to happen, only for the respective pilots to jerk their controls and avoid disaster. The sound was almost suffocating. The roar of engines, accompanied by shouted instructions from various members of staff and, of course, the wailing alarm that could still be heard from the edge of campus, filled his ears and refused to make room for much else.

They moved with the crowd of students, eyes on the lookout for a teacher. Fortunately, he didn’t have to look for long as the stocky figure of Professor Port soon came into view, holding a scroll in one hand and his axe-blunderbuss in the other.

“Professor!” Jaune called out and the man turned away from a team of students that were now running off, presumably to their assigned transport. “Team JNPR reporting.”

“JNPR? Good. Good.” The stout man said. Beneath his thick eyebrows, Jaune could see his eyes, devoid of their usual jovial sparkle and replaced with a steely resolve. “Vale’s been breached.”

The hairs on Jaune’s neck stood on end. Faintly, he heard Nora’s breath hitch, and a startled “What?” come from Pyrrha. Ren remained silent, but Jaune could imagine the gunman paling as he absorbed the blunt statement.

“Breached?” Jaune said. “Where?”

“No time to explain. You’re team has been assigned to–“ Professor Port consulted his scroll, “–Pad 08. You’ll receive a proper briefing on your scrolls soon. Hurry now.”

Port clapped Jaune on the back, almost causing him to stumble. Jaune reoriented himself and nodded dumbly back.

_Vale’s been breached._

He kept repeating the phrase in his head.

_Vale’s been breached. Vale’s been breached. Vale’s been breached._

He twisted around to look at the airships. Above their landing spots, numbers could be seen rotating in holographic projections. He quickly spotted the neon blue ‘08’ above a VTOL down a few rows.

He looked back at his team and saw their gazes fixed at the mess of activity. They were all wearing similar expressions of disbelief and distress. Even Nora’s usually bright and bubbly expression was muted. But he couldn’t stand around, looking lost. He was their leader.

“Come on, let’s go!” he yelled over the noise. He began walking, sensing the presence of his three teammates as they fell in behind him. Weaving through people and airships, they reached their assigned craft, seeing a pilot in an olive-drab flight suit and matching helmet with an open visor crouching in the passenger section. Upon spotting the four Huntsmen in training, he stood up. When they were face to face, he leaned down and yelled out, voice slightly muffled by his headwear, “You guys JNPR?”

“Yeah!” Jaune shouted back, and gave a thumbs up, just in case the other man couldn’t hear him. “Where are you taking us?”

“Just get on. Quick!”

Heeding his words, JNPR approached the open doors while the pilot jumped into the cockpit. In the VTOL’s interior, they were met with two more people similarly dressed in flight suits who extended their arms to help lift them into the passenger compartment. The armoured doors on their sides slid closed as they plopped down into the rigid seats.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Char Montreau,” said a voice over the VTOL’s speakers. “I’ll be your pilot this fine sunny morning. Forecast’s looking cloudy with a big chance of shit hitting the fan, so be sure to keep all arms, legs, and weapons inside the Oxhide at all times.”

Jaune noted the name of the VTOL. Oxhide; sounded like a relation to Bullhead. It would certainly explain the similar appearances.

He felt a rush of wind as the Oxhide’s two engines roared to life. His peripherals were tinged with the bright blue flames pointing at the ground as the pilot began his vertical ascent. Gaining altitude, the engines adjusted their angle, propelling the craft forward.

He was hit by a sudden wave of nausea when he realised just how high they were going. It appeared that, even with all the excitement around him, his airsickness wasn’t going anywhere. He clamped a hand over his mouth, suppressing a groan as his stomach began churning.

His plight was soon noticed by Pyrrha, who gave him a sympathetic smile. Fortunately, he received a distraction when the scroll attached to the wrist guard on his left forearm lit up.

When they had passed initiation, Professor Goodwitch had issued all of the first-years a student scroll. She had instructed them that it was for academic and emergency use, such as when they needed to be contacted by staff, call in their lockers, or check the aura levels of their teams.

The scroll started relaying an automated voice.

“Attention. If you are receiving this message, you are in possession of a Huntsman’s scroll. If you are not the owner of this scroll, you are at risk of violating the Huntsmen Legitimacy Act and are instructed to hand the scroll to the Vale Police Department immediately.”

Jaune inputted his ID number and password, and the screen changed to show a digitalised map of Remnant, which zoomed in to show Vale, then was overlayed with the title ‘OPERATION RESURGENCE’.

”Vale has experienced a breach by the Grimm–” Jaune’s skin crawled at the indifferent tone, “–the origin, of which has been pinpointed to a defunct and previously sealed subway exit to Mountain Glenn.”

Jaune’s scroll zoomed in further to the Residential District, where a small area was highlighted and accompanied by a caption labelled ‘BREACHED AREA’.

“The Grimm have spread quickly.”

The highlighted area expanded, with a legend popping up on the side, indicating that the intensity of the highlight signified the number of the detected creatures.

“Local law enforcement units have made contact with the Grimm and are attempting to contain the outbreak, but have reported heavy civilian casualties and are in danger of being overrun.”

An emblem of the VPD appeared in the middle of the screen, then shrunk and zipped to the top left corner. It was soon accompanied by a second emblem, showing a falcon in the middle of swooping over a model planet and the words ‘ATLAS NAVY’ embedded on its circumference.

“Fortunately, the Atlas 7th Aerial Fleet, which is currently stationed in Vale, has offered to lend its assistance, and are preparing to launch a counter-offensive.”

Nineteen blue rectangles appeared at the edge of the District, one of them being much bigger than the others and releasing several smaller flecks of blue that were quickly labelled as ‘ATLESIAN TRANSPORTS AND ESCORTS’. Approaching them was a smaller group of green flecks, which were the ‘VALEAN TRANSPORTS’. Jaune realised that those symbolised the VTOLs that were currently taking him and the other students out of Beacon.

“You will accompany Atlas to the Residential District. Your primary objective is to establish strongholds that will be used as landing zones for evacuation and troop transports, and footholds that Vale and Atlas will capitalise on to seal the breach.”

Green arrows appeared on the edge of the Residential District, labelled ‘VALEAN FORCES – ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival): STANDBY’.

Jaune’s face then appeared on the screen, with the words ‘JAUNE ARC’ underneath it. A moment later, the rest of JNPR’s faces joined him. Jaune could only assume that other teams were receiving different briefings with the faces tweaked to being their own ones.

“You will be in constant communication with Beacon Academy and the Atlas military for the duration of the operation. When addressed, respond with your Team name.”

JNPR’s faces shrunk, then moved to the bottom-half of the screen as twelve more faces showed up – two more teams of first-years (CYAN and BEIJ), and one team of second-years (CFVY). Lines were drawn from the second-years to the first-years underneath.

“This is your designated Strike Team and Strike Team Commander.”

The portrait of CFVY’s team leader, labelled ‘COCO ADEL’ lit up to highlight a girl wearing sunglasses and a beret. Under the symbol for the Atlas Navy, the word ‘WATCH MASTER appeared.

“This will be your link to your overall commanders. They take precedence over your Strike Team Commander.”

The screen zoomed in one last time to a top-down view of a seven-storey building. It flashed bright yellow a couple of times before a label saying ‘PRIMARY OBJECTIVE – AVANTI TOWN CENTRE’ was displayed. Once again, Jaune assumed different students would receive different instructions.

“This is the location of your primary objective. Once you arrive, you will be coordinating with Vale’s and Atlas’ military to push back the Grimm. Be aware of your surroundings. Stay within reach of your teammates. Be aggressive, not reckless. Trust your instincts. Good luck and good hunting.”

With that, the voice was replaced with a one-way transmission from Coco, her team’s own Oxhide supposedely racing to form up with the main fleet.

“We’ll be going in as part of the first response wave,” she said, as she pushed up her sunglasses.

“I want you to keep in mind, this is a large-scale operation,” she emphasised, her voice ringing with confidence to provide a welcome contrast with the borderline panic Jaune had seen since he’d woken up. “So, no matter what happens out there, you won’t be alone. Once we touch down on Avanti, we’re going to be swarmed by Grimm. I want you to keep an eye on each other’s backs. Remember your training. We do this right, we’ll save a lot of lives.”

Her lips thinned and Jaune thought he saw a muscle on her cheek twitch. She looked like she wanted to say something, maybe say she was scared too. But she merely turned her head to one side, echoing the briefing’s “Good luck”, before ending her message.

By now, their Oxhide had decelerated, and was hovering at a distance from the Residential District. Jaune grimaced as he spotted, through the cockpit’s windows, little dots of black smoke on the horizon, marking the Grimm’s advance.

He looked to his teammates. Their vibrant attires would have complemented the clear blue skies, if not for the Oxhide’s doors. Red, green, and pink stood together in anticipation for the coming fight. There was no hesitation in them. No uncertainty.

They were ready, and so was he.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The A/UV-71 “Oxhide”**

The Oxhide was commissioned by the Vale military and produced by Soryu Frontiers from 79 AGW. Based off the civilian and commercial UV-7 Bullhead, it keeps the twin jet system to propel itself, but the engines themselves have been upscaled to compensate for the greater weight that comes with the addition of armoured plating and guns. In particular, the first feature one looks for to distinguish an Oxhide from a Bullhead is to see whether it has the latter’s rounded frame or the former’s more angled and bulkier silhouette.

There have been many cases of the Bullhead having machine guns mounted on its hull as an improvised (theoretically) defensive weapon. The Oxhide has emulated and standardised this practice by having a chin-mounted M900A2 Chain Gun, an optional pair of M275 Miniguns (one for each side of the passenger compartment and manned by crew chiefs), and a choice between 20 M66 Hellfire Micro-Rockets or 4 M810 Buster AGMs (Air to Ground Missiles).

The Oxhide is utilised by the Vale Army, while the Vale Marines and Navy have thus far elected to continue using the UH-35 Stanchion Helicopter for the bulk of their tactical aerial troop movements.

In engagements against the Grimm and White Fang, the Oxhide has received much praise for its lethal and reliable firepower. Many a grunt has found great comfort in hearing the low roar of the VTOL’s approach, which is often quickly followed by the _thrum_ of its primary and side guns, and the _fwoosh_ of its rockets.

However, one major criticism levied against the Oxhide is its limited capacity. Having sacrificed much of the Bullhead’s interior space for ammunition, equipment, and plating, the Oxhide is, on paper, incapable of ferrying anything larger than a fireteam per trip (although smaller squads have been able to squeeze in by using the seats reserved for the crew chiefs, and particularly bold troopers have taken to bolting handholds to the ceiling to allow some more to stand). In addition, the Oxhide comes with a notable lack of fast ropes that would allow soldiers to disembark quickly when it is unable to land, due to unfavourable terrain or other factors. With these shortcomings in mind, the A/UV-71 may very well be a failure at the one core thing it was meant to be from the start: a troop transport.

Fortunately for some, the Oxhide’s insufficient carrying capacity drew the interest of Beacon Academy. Assembled in groups of no more than four, Huntsmen teams in training have treated the VTOL as the near perfect storm between manoeuvrability and lethality. They are usually restricted to transporting third- and fourth-year students, who are often assigned to train and operate in areas with the most dangerous concentrations of Grimm. And even then, the Oxhides themselves may only be piloted by the Vale Army’s Aviation Branch.

During the Breach of Vale, Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy was able to scramble around forty Oxhides, drawn from the 1st, 2nd, 5th, and 11th Vale Army Aviation Regiments. With these VTOLs, he was able to transport his students to face the surprise Grimm incursion and buy the rest of Vale time to properly mobilise. Many have speculated on how he was able to convince the military to loan him so many craft on such short notice, but no officials have made any concrete statements on the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Dozens of airships were shown holding position in a loose formation on Jaune’s scroll. Transports, gunships and fighters were combining to form the first response wave against the Grimm. By the minute, their numbers increased, as more and more vessels poured in from Beacon Academy and Atlas’ ships. There was a notable lack of elements from Vale’s own Navy or Air Force, though that was likely because they were either still hauling ass to get to the fight or assembling at other rally points before launching their own counterattacks.

They’d been waiting for almost a quarter of an hour, and by now, Jaune was restless. He wasn’t privy to make the judgement of when they were ready, but every second spent gathering their forces meant more people dying without their help.

Then the order came.

From the Oxhide’s speakers, a voice boomed, “All units, Operation Resurgence is go. I say again, Operation Resurgence is go. Proceed to the designated AO.”

For half a second, the world remained unchanged. Then Jaune’s ears were filled with the roar of engines, as every airship within several hundred metres, including his own, lurched forward in a mad dash for the Residential District.

He heard Nora let out a whoop of enthusiasm, eager that they were finally moving to the action. And although he remained silent, the young swordsman let out a smile of relief.

He was dimly aware of the increasing volume of radio chatter transmitted to and from various units, spontaneously catching a few phrases here and there. He heard reports of aerial Grimm attacking from the Breach that would most likely attempt to engage their craft, which gave him pause. Being in a metal coffin hundreds of metres above the ground was bad enough. But going in with the threat of being plucked out of said coffin by an oversized bird? He was glad he didn’t have any breakfast to throw up from the thought.

Just as luck would have it, the Oxhide’s internal speakers broadcasted, “Break. Break. All units, this is Watch Master. We have confirmation of flying hostiles inbound. Reaper, Thunder and Hellcat Flights. Move to intercept. How copy? Over.”

On cue, a screech penetrated the whine of engines and conversation. It was small, and muffled, which Jaune guessed meant whatever had made it was far away. But there was no doubt just where its shriek had been aimed at. And it was soon followed by more.

He chanced a glance out of the cockpit glass. He saw small silhouettes, which he had assumed were plumes of smoke, steadily grow and form into cross-sections of large avian creatures, which he immediately recognised as Nevermores.

Bone-chilling as the Grimm’s call was, the radio was soon alive with the drawl of pilots.

“Reaper Flight copies. Moving to engage. Out.”

“Thunder Flight breaking off. On interception course with hostiles. Out.”

“Hellcat Flight acknowledges. Most kills wins. Out.”

And with that, nearly twenty aircraft zipped ahead of the main group, leaving slipstreams in their wake. Not long afterward, Jaune saw flashes of light from one side, and flecks of black from the other, as the two groups battled for air supremacy. Whispering a quick prayer for the pilots, he heard an update.

“Watch Master. This is Pitcher Flight. We are en route with Strike Team CFVY to LZ Avanti. ETA 60 seconds. Out.”

“Pitcher Flight. Watch Master copies. Out.”

Pitcher Flight was the quartet of VTOLs transporting them to the target building.

The Oxhide’s doors began retracting, letting more of the sun back into the compartment. Jaune was treated to an urban sprawl rapidly transitioning into the high-rise of downtown Vale. Every so often, he could spot a roadblock, full of flashing sirens and barricades, and the lines of traffic that were halted by them. Automated city defences had been activated, their turrets and caltrops providing another layer for the Grimm to push against. Soon, he could see and hear active signs of combat, as gunfire from police and built-in defences clashed with the roar of beasts.

Interspersed in the fighting was the occasional flare of vibrant clothing and custom weapons symbolising the presence of a Hunter or Huntress. Not ones like Jaune who were still crawling their way through training, but fully-fledged warriors – each a one-man army in their own right and the certified badasses of Remnant. Jaune wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them had been on a morning run or taking a day off after a long venture outside the city walls, only to switch back into combat mode the moment a Grimm crashed right back into their priorities. The sight of these heroes cleaving through so many monsters, even if some of them were by themselves and without any support, eased his mind.

“This is 1-1. I have visual on the LZ.”

He knew the Oxhides’ official designations were Pitcher 1-1, Pitcher 1-2, etc. But Jaune supposed they were just saying the number to save time.

Avanti Town Centre was a moderately sized building with a square foundation. Its many glass windows and panes had been shuttered with sheets of metal. Seven stories tall, its once pristine white walls were pocket-marked with scratches and other embellishments from the fighting that had already occurred. Its two main entryways at street level were barricaded, and being clawed at and rammed by the Grimm, who snarled as they were pelted by bullets and grenades from the upper floors.

“10 seconds,” said one of the pilots.

“10 seconds. Copy.”

“1-3, 1-4. Give those guys in the streets a gun run. 1-2. With me.”

“1-2 copies.”

“1-3. Solid copy.”

“1-4. Roger. Guns, guns, guns.”

The _thrum_ of one of the Oxhides firing its primary weapon at the encroaching Grimm hit Jaune’s ears. Countless rounds flew out of the VTOL’s multi-barrelled Chain Gun and sliced through the creatures infesting the roads and pathways. It felt both exhilarating and slightly mortifying to watch the rain of lead and shell casings.

The roof of the town centre had a single landing pad, which JNPR and the other teams would use for their insertion. They would have to go in one Oxhide at a time, so long as–

“Pitcher Flight. This is Thunder 3-1. Be advised, incoming hostiles at your three. Over.”

Jaune, and the rest of JNPR jerked their heads to the right, where a trio of Nevermores being pursued by a pair of Atlesian fighters were banking towards them. One of the fighters fired a controlled burst with its autocannons, the rounds detonating near or in a Nevermore’s behind. With a screech of pain, the flying monster drew itself up to launch a storm of deceptively sharp feathers in retaliation.

“We see them, Thunder 3-1,” one of the Oxhide pilots responded, “moving to assist. Over.”

Their landing temporarily aborted, the quartet of transports aimed their chin-mounted chain guns. “1-1. Guns, guns, guns.”

“1-2. Guns, guns, guns.”

Jaune felt the floor beneath him rumble, as scores of rounds were discharged at supersonic speeds from his Oxhide at the flying monsters. Concentrated fire brought one down, cleaving through its black skin and almost sawing the avian in half.

“Negative, Pitcher,” Jaune heard one of the fighters say, his strained voice conveying a hint of urgency. “Unload your chalk and get the hell o–“

The second Nevermore screeched in frustration and took off, presumably to rejoin the rest of its brethren. The final one, pierced from all sides, let out a dying cry. But in its unceremonious plummet, it made one last dash for the Oxhides. Jaune could only watch in horror as talons sunk into one of the VTOLs and a flailing wing caught its engines, dragging the transport down with it.

“Ah shit. I’m hit!”

“1-1’s going down!”

Pitcher 1-1 was the second-years’, Team CFVY’s, Oxhide.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. We’ve got an Oxhide going down.”

“1-1. What’s your status?”

“Both engines out! Losing control!”

As the two birds, one flesh and one metal, fell from the skies, they began spinning. First slowly, then rapidly accelerating, as the pilot helplessly struggled with her controls.

“Pitcher 1-1 is going down.”

“1-1’s hit!”

“1-1 has lost her engines and is spinning out.”

Fixated on the dance of death before him, Jaune only then noticed that CFVY’s Oxhide and the Nevermore were getting uncomfortably close to the town centre’s roof. People who had emerged to receive the VTOLs found themselves scrambling back downstairs like ants from a boot.

Overwhelmed by a surge of despair, Jaune looked away as the Oxhide, still in the Nevermore’s clutches, descended the final few metres to ground level. A heart-wrenching crash followed, and he dared to look back, seeing the Oxhide dug in at an angle on the streets below, thankfully having missed Avanti. The Nevermore, on the other hand had been, for lack of a better term, scraped off the Oxhide on the town centre, its now disintegrating form draped on the roof to create a sickening layer of oozing smoke.

White noise filled his ears, as a final report was made on CFVY’s transport.

“We’ve got an Oxhide down. I say again, we’ve got an Oxhide down.”

The edges of Jaune’s vision blurred slightly, and he found himself hit by a wave of dizziness. With one fell swoop, his Strike Team’s leadership had been swatted from the sky. And even if Team CFVY survived the crash, there would be no guarantee they’d be in fighting condition. The landing pad was currently covered in a very large and very toxic Grimm. More of the creatures were still pressing at the main entrances, with some becoming very interested in the metal monstrosity that had just crash-landed in front of them.

And right then, Jaune just wanted to give up. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the horrors below him. Let them maim, rampage and slaughter until it was all over. Dimly, he was aware of the pilots desperately trying to contact the downed Oxhide, only to receive static. The crew chiefs were occupied with firing their miniguns into the Grimm below, their spinning barrels and deafening fire trying to keep the horde away from their fellow crewmen. He wanted to tell them he was finished. He couldn’t fight. He was done.

And then, it passed.

He was panicking. He needed to get control over himself and rally the remaining teams. If they failed here, Vale would lose a staging point that it would otherwise have to expend all the more men and women to take. They needed to hold here and hold fast.

He looked at his team. They looked about as disheartened as he felt. He even swore he saw Pyrrha’s eyes shimmer. He knew she wouldn’t cry. But she’d been rattled; Ren and Nora too.

He laid a hand on her arm, and their eyes locked. He let an unspoken question ring.

_You okay?_

The shimmer hardened.

_We need to get down there._

Jaune nodded and shuffled his way through the cramped interior to the cockpit. He heard the pilot rapidly conversing with the others.

“–crawling all over this sector. Are there any support units we can pull from? Over.”

“Negative, Pitcher Flight. CASEVAC is unavailable at this time. Over.”

“1-3, you’ve got another group coming in at your nine.”

“Copy. Moving to engage.”

“Thatch! I can’t see them! Give me forty-five degrees right.”

“Forty-five right. Go get ‘em.”

“1-1. You still there? Come on, Triss. Talk to me!”

He tapped the pilot on the shoulder, who glanced at Jaune, but then reverted his eyes back to the front to line up a pack of Beowolves charging around a corner.

“Yeah?”

“We need to get down there now,” Jaune said, echoing Pyrrha’s unspoken sentiment.

“No can do. The Nevermore’s still smoking on the LZ. You’ll choke to death before you get inside,” he retorted with constrained patience. Jaune could tell the radio was filling his head with enough voices to listen to, never mind being worried about his fellow pilot. But this was urgent.

“Then put us down near here.”

“The roads have too many hostiles for the birds. We’re setting up a secondary point to drop you off, but it’ll take time.”

“We’ll jump.”

That got his proper attention. Jaune saw the pilot do a double take and open his mouth to reject his declaration, which confused him. Huntsmen, even ones in training, were some of the toughest people on Remnant. With their enhanced auras, they could absorb enough damage that would otherwise fold a car in half. Then he remembered that the pilot wasn’t a Huntsman. He was part of the Army, working with soldiers who, while undeniably courageous and deadly in their own right, were in the end just ordinary people whose own auras hadn’t been refined and catered to on the level of someone like Pyrrha or Ren. Of course, Jaune was a special (i.e. fraudulent) case of being severely underdeveloped in his own training, but he didn’t need to know that. In the stress of the moment, maybe the pilot was subconsciously thinking he was still transporting regular troops. Jaune would need to remind him otherwise.

“Our auras can take the fall, and that centre, and crash site aren’t gonna last forever.”

To emphasise his statement, Jaune pointed at the streets, where a group of Boarbatusks were spinning down the asphalt and crashing into one of Avanti’s barricades. He leaned forward slightly.

“I need to get to them.”

He didn’t have to elaborate who ‘them’ were.

Glancing between the young Huntsman and the ground, the pilot appeared torn. One final report from the radio seemed to sway his opinion.

“Pitcher Flight. Be advised, you have more hostile air units inbound on your position. Escorts are delaying but can’t catch all of them. Over.”

He grunted. Whether in annoyance or decisiveness, Jaune couldn’t tell.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Watch Master. This is Pitcher 1-2. Team JNPR is requesting permission to jump near the LZ to conduct search and rescue for Pitcher 1-1, then move to Avanti. Over.”

Jaune held his breath. Communications from the other pilots ceased, as they tuned into his appeal.

“Pitcher 1-2. Watch Master copies. Does JNPR understand they’ll be going in understrength into a hostile zone? Over.”

Jaune wanted to roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the radio was clearly skeptical. The time for second-guessing had passed. He was training to fight Grimm, and he was damn well going to do just that. He nodded in confirmation to the pilot.

“Affirmative, Watch Master. They can see the ground as well as we can. They know what they’re getting into.”

Another moment of tension, as they awaited a response.

“Alright, Pitcher Flight. Abort search for Secondary LZ and proceed with emergency insertion of JNPR. Set up an overhead pattern and provide overwatch. Thunder Flight will move in and cover you as long as they can. Until you can verify CFVY’s status, JNPR will have command of the Strike Team. It’s your call on whether to insert CYAN and BEIJ. Watch Master out.”

Jaune was already heading back to the passenger compartment, as he heard the pilot reply, “Wilco, Watch Master. 1-2 out.”

“We’re going in!” he shouted to JNPR, “Weapons ready!”

The compartment was briefly filled with the ring of metal, as they unsheathed blades and cocked their firearms. Jaune tapped at his scroll to contact the other two teams.

JNPR was ready to jump into the mess underneath, but that didn’t mean the others were. They might still be reeling from the loss of CFVY. He had to give them a choice, no matter how desperately he needed the extra numbers.

“CYAN? BEIJ? This is JNPR. The people at Avanti and our guys from the downed Oxhide still need our help, so we’re gonna have to fight through the streets to get to them. You might be scared. I get that. If you don’t think you can handle yourselves down there, then tell your pilots, so you can get permission to withdraw. I won’t judge you for that, and neither will anyone else here. But if you’re ready to get in there and kick some ass, I need to know _now_.”

During his little speech, JNPR’s Oxhide had steadily descended, trying to find a height that would minimise drop distance, but also keep it out of reach from the Grimm on the streets. The reply was almost instantaneous.

“This is Team CYAN–”

Jaune bit his lip, doubt seeping into his head. Would the others follow after what they just saw?

“–we’re with you JNPR.”

Their pledge was followed by, “Team BEIJ here. We’ll be right behind you. Let’s go get our guys.”

A sigh of relief escaped Jaune, and he felt the weight of the coming fight feel just that little bit lighter. He cleared his throat, before addressing the other first-years again.

“Solid copy, BEIJ and CYAN. Glad to have you with us.”

He had a plan. It was simple. Move as a group to the crash site, then to Avanti, then hold position until relieved.

He crouched and looked over the Oxhide’s edge. The sound of three pairs of feet signalled the rest of JNPR following suit.

Ren gave him a nod of acknowledgement and approval.

Jaune nodded back, then peered down into the chaos.

Crowds of Grimm tore across the streets, smashing through cars, light poles and buildings to reach the town centre. Their snarls and hisses filled the air, getting ever louder, as the Oxhide drew closer.

“This is as far as I can go!” the pilot shouted. “You ready?”

Jaune swallowed. It wasn’t anywhere near as high as when he was launched into the Emerald Forest, but his current perspective reminded him he was still in the air, and still very liable to feeling queasy from the height. Glancing around, he noted the other two remaining Oxhides were hovering at similar altitudes above the same road his team was over, their weapons still firing to give them as much of a safe drop zone as they could. Cowardice and nausea could take a back seat for now. The others would jump, and so would he.

His mind briefly wandered to the age-old parental rhetoric of whether he would follow his friends if they leapt off a cliff. He wasn’t sure if he should find the similarity to his current situation vindicating, ironic, or both.

“Ready!” he yelled back, and keyed in the other teams one last time before they exited the VTOL. “Jump on my mark!”

He took a few steady breaths, bracing himself for the inevitable acrobatics his stomach would make in the following moments.

“3!”

He saw Pyrrha crouch next to him, as Ren and Nora went to the other side of the Oxhide.

“2!”

She bumped his shield with her own, and gave him a tight smile, ready to dive into the fray.

“1!”

He felt the muscles coil in his legs as they synced with his voice.

“Mark!”

And then, he was in free fall.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The Remilitarisation of Vale**

The close of the Great War in 0 AGW saw the Kingdoms of Mantle, Mistral, Vacuo, and Vale simultaneously dissolve much of their standing militaries. Defence of the people against the Grimm was almost completely handed off to the Huntsmen of Remnant, with only small, decentralised militias left to keep watch over areas with more isolated populations.

Mantle was the first of The Big Four to transition back into having a professional military when it was succeeded by Atlas in 32 AGW. Amidst great protest and scrutiny from the rest of the world, it repaved the way for standing armies and navies to proliferate Remnant once more. Yet, while the threat of invasion once more reared its ugly head, the tenets of individualism and liberation that had emerged victorious from the Great War endured in the minds of many, and the world remained largely resistant to being caught up in an arms race.

Such an attitude, forged in remembrance of the sacrifices of those who fought to bring an end to emotional and political suppression, changed with the Fall of Mountain Glenn.

Seeking to expand its borders, the Vale Council had authorised the monumental task of building an entirely new large-scale settlement beyond the protection of its walls. Tens of thousands were commissioned to facilitate their expansion, and the Mountain Glenn District was completed in 60 AGW. Receiving much applause and acclaim from the rest of Remnant for their valiant and tenacious efforts to thrive in a hazardous world, Vale received a spike in tourism and migration rates from those who wished to see or live in the new metropolitan area.

And yet, even amidst the celebration warranted by their success, the Grimm came. Initially, they attacked in small numbers that could have easily been eliminated by most town watches. But over time, the creatures swelled in both number and ferocity. By mid 61 AGW, there were visible signs of damage to the foundations of Mountain Glenn’s walls, and people were beginning to grow restless. In late 61 AGW, Vale was horrified to learn that a mining operation near the rail line and highway linking the district to the main city had uncovered a horde of Grimm. Efforts to beat back the creatures were unsuccessful, and Mountain Glenn was cut off by land.

A concentrated effort was made to supply the isolated populace by air. But with no Air Force or Navy, many airships found themselves ambushed and beset upon by a surprise influx of beasts the moment they set out beyond the range of the main city’s automated defences. Even with Hunters and Huntresses streaming in from all corners of Remnant to assist the besieged defendants, the people of Vale could ultimately only watch as, bit by bit, the district’s walls cracked.

In 62 AGW, the walls surrounding Mountain Glenn collapsed. In a sea of black and white, the tide of Grimm swept in with a savage ferocity. What Huntsmen that weren’t overwhelmed by the onslaught bore witness to an endless wave of death. For every Grimm one killed, two more would take its place. And for every group of survivors they were able to protect, another would be left at the mercy of the horde.

Within two hours, the district was covered in Grimm, and the whole area proclaimed lost. Demolition charges were detonated at the main city’s exit to Mountain Glenn to prevent the creatures from pouring into the main city. The desperate screams of the district’s final survivors became etched into the nightmares of many, who could only stare helplessly from a distance as further evacuation efforts were deemed untenable, and their people were left to a violent and brutal end.

Over twenty thousand people died in the Fall of Mountain Glenn, including eighty-seven Huntsmen who had fought to keep the creatures first outside the district, then away from the evacuation craft. It was the most horrific loss of human life since the Great War.

From the ashes of such a colossal failure to protect their people, the Vale Council had learnt an important, and incomprehensibly expensive lesson. Six decades of relative peace and prosperity had let their ideals of freedom and autonomy become twisted into sedentary complacency. In memory of the events leading up to the Great War, they refused to resort to tyranny and oppression. But their defeat to the Grimm had shown their current ways of life could not be sustained as they were.

In 63 AGW, Vale announced to Remnant that it would be establishing its own fully-fledged military. Eager for and determined to set up a bulwark to prevent another Mountain Glenn from ever happening again, the Valeans turned to Atlas for assistance in reforming their own service branches.

The Vale Army was formed in 65 AGW, followed by the Vale Air Force in 67 AGW, and the Vale Aerial and Seaborne Navy and Marines in 70 AGW. Initially, much of their equipment came straight from Atlas, buying time for Vale’s own industry to restructure itself. Vale’s borderline overdependence on Atlas has produced polarising opinions. Some have praised the former for being able to swallow its pride to ask for help, and the latter for being gracious enough to provide it. Yet, others have grown wary at the partnership between the two Kingdoms, wondering how long it will be before Atlas uses Vale’s reliance on its production lines to blackmail it into becoming a puppet state. Many are also concerned of the rift that has appeared within The Big Four, with Vacuo and Mistral becoming increasingly wary of the alliance of steel that has developed between Atlas and Vale.

At the very least aware of their need to become more self-sufficient, Vale has continuously worked to develop, test, and implement more ‘home-grown’ gear into their forces. In particular, the advent of equipment such as the M2 Carbine in 73 AGW, the Archangel-class Destroyer in 75 AGW, and the A/UV-71 Oxhide VTOL in 79 AGW mark Vale’s slow transition away from relying almost purely on Atlas’ wares.

In the present day, Vale has yet to catch up with Atlas in terms of the quantity and quality of its military. With that said, they are still considered being leagues ahead of Vacuo and Mistral, whose similar policies of rearmament have been comparatively reluctant and stunted. However, while on paper, Vale has a well-equipped and well-motivated defence force, it remains largely untested, with the majority of its divisions, wings, and fleets having yet to earn their ‘scars’ in any large-scale or protracted engagements. It has also deviated from Atlas by electing not to incorporate its Huntsmen into SOCOM (Special Operations Command), seeing their individualism and unpredictability as a valuable check and balance against their conventional forces.


	4. Chapter 4

The world came to a jarring halt as Jaune impacted asphalt. He winced as vibrations ran up his legs and left arm, which had simultaneously borne the brunt of the landing. He knew he was fine. His aura was down by a noticeable chunk, but would come back in due time, assuming he didn’t suffer any more blunt force trauma in the immediate future.

Almost as if some arbitrarily divine entity was reading his thoughts, there was the crash of shattering glass, and an all too familiar snarl. Largely on instinct, he raised his shield and slid back a metre or two when a Beowolf leapt through a nearby storefront and barrelled into him with snapping jaws and clawing arms. Jaune let out a grunt of effort, as he lowered his stance, then flipped the offending creature over his head. As it landed on its side, he sunk his blade in its neck. He twisted his right arm, then pulled it back to let a stream of crimson blood and dark smoke gush out of the wound.

As he stood up, the Beowolf’s head was cracked open in a gory display of flesh, fur, and bone. He glanced right to where Pyrrha was aiming Milo in its rifle form at the now still corpse and gave her a nod of thanks. Better to make sure it was dead now, rather than risk a final desperate chomp or swipe.

Ren and Nora were a few metres away, having jumped from the other side of the Oxhide. Ahead of them, closer to the crash site and town centre was Team BEIJ, and behind was CYAN. He tapped the scroll on his shield arm to communicate with the others.

“BEIJ. Hold position while CYAN and JNPR come to you.”

“Got it. Holding.”

“Copy. Let’s move, CYAN!”

Jaune and his own team moved at a brisk jog down the street, careful to pay attention to their surroundings in the event of another ambush like his own little encounter. No doubt most, if not all, in the area had either fled to the town centre or been swarmed by the Grimm. With a pang of guilt, he tried not to look for any bodies, but couldn’t ignore the scores of abandoned and beat-up vehicles that lined the road. The Oxhides were still circling above, raining death on the surrounding Grimm. At one point, one of the VTOLs flew right above him, and he had to sidestep around a rain of spent casings, as one of its side Miniguns let loose a hailstorm at a target he couldn’t see. When they reached BEIJ, they didn’t have to wait long for CYAN to group up with them.

“Alright. Set up a perimeter,” he called out. “Team leaders on me.”

Nine students, including Pyrrha, Nora and Ren, focused their weapons outward, setting up overlapping fields of fire. The _bangs_ and _cracks_ of their weapons, lovingly crafted to reflect their unique approaches to combat sounded off to ward away or, failing that, cut down the curious and malicious.

He knew BEIJ’s and CYAN’s leaders from the leadership courses he’d had to take, in addition to regular classes. The first to reach him was Baylee from BEIJ, a girl in a red tunic and black trousers who held a sabre in one hand and a nasty looking hand cannon in the other. From CYAN was Conrad, a boy weighed down by even more armour than Jaune and carrying a heavily modified marksman rifle.

“Nice pep talk back there,” said Baylee. “What’s the plan?”

“We rush the downed Oxhide together and look for survivors,” said Jaune. He didn’t want to acknowledge that anyone from CFVY or 1-1’s crew might be dead, but it wouldn’t do them much good to have unrealistic expectations. “Do any of our guys have medical training?”

“Yeah,” said Conrad, his voice slightly modulated from the speakers in his helmet. “Noah’s worked with his folks in a clinic.”

“Then your team will get in there, and check on the people inside,” said Jaune. “The rest of us will settle in around the VTOL and see if we can get one of the pilots to airlift the casualties out. After that, we move to Avanti and follow our original orders – make sure it stays a strongpoint for Vale and Atlas. Any objections?”

“None here.”

“Nope. Sounds good.”

“Alright,” said Jaune. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Let your teams know what’s about to happen. On my signal, we move as a group to the crash site.”

The other two nodded, and Jaune rejoined the rest of JNPR, who’d set themselves up in a triangle formation. Pyrrha was bracing her rifle on her shield and taking careful shots at a pack of Beowolves bounding across a distant intersection. Nora had Magnhild in its grenade launcher configuration and was lobbing explosives at a pair of Ursa that were being distracted and slowed down by Ren’s machine pistols.

“Get ready to move!” he said, raising his voice to make sure he could be heard over the sound of their weapons. “We’re gonna cover CYAN while they check inside 1-1. After we get everyone out, we’re heading to Avanti.”

He received a trio of affirmatives, after which his scroll relayed Baylee’s and Conrad’s confirmations of readiness.

“Okay people. Let’s get to that crash site. Go! Go!”

* * *

They’d had to run a few hundred metres to reach the Oxhide. The force of its crash had firmly planted it in the ground, skewed on its right side. There were over half a dozen conspicuous holes in the roof, where the Nevermore had latched on earlier, and the cockpit’s glass had been cracked. Fortunately, the other pilots had been vigilant in keeping the Grimm away from the downed bird. But they still didn’t know how many wounded or – heavens forbid – dead they’d find inside.

“CYAN! You’re up!” he called to Conrad, who gave him a thumbs up and gestured for his team to circle around to one of the open sides. He, JNPR, and BEIJ settled down around the VTOL’s frame, preparing to repel anything that slipped through their air cover. He fiddled with his scroll for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to contact Atlas command. Eventually, he got a connection.

“Watch Master. This is Team JNPR,” he said. “We’ve reached the crash site and are checking for survivors.”

“Copy that, JNPR,” came the voice of Watch Master. “Be advised, aerial Grimm presence is escalating around your zone. You won’t have much time before Pitcher Flight has to fall back. Over.”

“Roger. We’ll be quick as we can. Out.” said Jaune.

A minute passed before his scroll lit up again with Conrad’s voice.

“This is CYAN. It’s bad, but could be worse. Pilot can’t move, and the crew chiefs are knocked out. Coco and Velvet are conscious, but not doing too hot, and Yatsuhashi and Fox are pretty banged up. Noah says we need to stabilise some of these guys before we can evac them.”

“Right,” said Jaune. While relieved to hear there hadn’t been fatalities, he was still shaken. Considering how confident he’d been in their durability when telling the others to jump, the news that CFVY had been hit so hard was as sobering as it was confusing. Just how bad had the crash been to incapacitate the second-years? “How long do you need?”

“Don’t know. The VTOL’s fuselage is all warped and dented to shit. We’ll have to try to cut the pilot out, but our weapons aren’t exactly made for that.”

He was right. Huntsmen wielded tools of destruction. Whatever precision or utility they were designed with was for the purpose of dealing death. If, say, Nora tried to brute force the crew out of the Oxhide, they ran a good chance of finishing the Nevermore’s job and killing the people inside via hammer to the face. His sword, and Milo in its Xiphos configuration would do better, but he really didn’t want to risk stabbing a friendly.

Although, speaking of Milo…

“Pyrrha.”

His teammate looked to him questioningly.

“You think your semblance will work on the ship?”

Considering most of the Oxhide was made of metal, it was a rhetorical question, and his teammate quickly latched onto the idea.

“I can get them out.”

Jaune nodded, then contacted Conrad. “I’m gonna send in Pyrrha. Her magnetism will take care of the frame.”

“Roger. It’s getting pretty crowded in here, so I’ll leave Noah to work on the wounded while the rest of us join the perimeter.”

“Copy that. Pyrrha! You’re clear!”

His teammate acknowledged and sprinted off to the Oxhide, passing by most of CYAN as they exited the crashed VTOL. It was at times like this that Jaune wished he had a ranged or hybrid weapon that could let him contribute to the fight. With their current overwhelming firepower of a dozen students and a flight of Oxhides, his comparatively plain sword and shield were feeling more than a little useless.

Confidant that the rest of the students could manage without him for a minute, he waved over Conrad. The two of them crouched and put their heads near each other to maximise the volume of their voices over both the literal and figurative roar of battle. No need to clog up radio chatter when they were so close.

“How did CFVY get so beat up?” he asked.

“Coco said the Nevermore’s talons were swiping at them the whole way down,” replied Conrad. “No room to get out of the way, and they couldn’t risk hitting the crew with their weapons.”

Jaune suppressed a light shiver, remembering how he’d equated the Oxhides to flying coffins earlier. One of a Huntsman’s greatest tools was mobility. If they couldn’t conceal their presence from the Grimm, they would try to prevent themselves from being properly acquired. If they were acquired, they would evade. If they couldn’t evade, they would try to minimise the loss of aura when being hit. The Nevermore had cut right through to the last resort. Jaune had witnessed firsthand how deadly its talons could be. Even when swinging blindly at the occupants it couldn’t see, a couple of lucky hits could be all it needed to knock out a student. And when adding on the kinetic force and whiplash of the crash itself…

“There was a trauma kit in the passenger compartment,” continued Conrad. “It’s got a collapsible stretcher we can use to ferry them for another Oxhide to get these guys out of here.”

“Good idea,” said Jaune. Both of them reflexively ducked down as a pair of Atlesian fighters roared overhead, their engines causing a strong gust that seemed to go in every direction at once. “I’ll let the other pilots know.”

He keyed into the VTOLs above. “Pitcher Flight. This is JNPR. We’ve set up a perimeter around the crash site. Many wounded, but no dead. Can anyone try to land hear? Over.”

“Copy, JNPR. Standby. Over.”

The reply took about half a minute. Jaune imagined the pilots were deliberating with each other and command.

“Negative, JNPR. We’ve got too many hostiles coming in from the skies. Escorts are close to losing this airspace and Watch Master wants us out in two Mikes (minutes).”

They’d taken too long. Jaune remembered snippets of communications that mentioned more incoming flying Grimm. After months of fighting and training with their own four-man teams, having any form of air support had been a novelty experience. For now, their superior firepower had been obliterating the ground targets. But the feeling of invincibility he’d come dangerously close to drowning in would disappear the moment the Oxhides withdrew, leaving JNPR, BEIJ and CYAN to pull their own weight.

Abandoning CFVY and 1-1’s crew was out of the question. But the streets were too open for them. They could handle the Grimm for a while. However, the time would come when they ran out of ammo, aura, and energy. With no respite in sight, they’d fall one by one to attrition. He was locking up with indecision. They needed to reach Avanti, but they also needed to get the wounded out.

…

Hell, why not both at the same time?

“Copy that,” he said back to the pilots, before switching frequencies. “Watch Master. We can’t extract 1-1. We’re gonna carry them to Avanti and see if we can get some help there. Over.”

“Roger, JNPR,” came the reply. “Be advised, air support will be withdrawing from your area, and will not be able to cover you when you make the run.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” said Jaune, fully aware that he was probably impeding on radio discipline or etiquette, but also running out of patience to make the effort. He was a student, not a soldier. “We’ll be careful.”

“Understood, JNPR. Good luck. Watch Master out.”

Jaune then contacted Baylee. Conrad was still next to him, rifle braced on his shoulder and firing steadily at the more distant targets. “Heads up! We’re gonna have to haul the wounded to Avanti. Conrad. Let Noah know what we’re doing. I’ll head in and help Pyrrha with the stretcher.”

“Loud and clear, Jaune.”

“You got it. Noah. Change of plans–“

His pure reliance on melee wasn’t doing them any good right now. If he was going to be of any use, he was going to be a stretcher bearer. They’d have to make multiple trips, but he trusted the rest of the students to provide cover while he and Pyrrha ran for the town centre.

“I’m headed for the Oxhide,” he said. “Nora. Ren. Fall back with me and cover the outside. Baylee. See if you can push to Avanti and get them to open up for us. Everyone else. Reform the perimeter. Start taking positions along the road. I want a clear path to the town centre!”

Affirmatives rang out as he made his way to the VTOL. When he entered the passenger compartment, he was mentally preparing himself for the worst. Conrad’s team hadn’t appeared too shaken when they’d rejoined the main group, but he wanted to err on the side of caution. His first thought at the sight before him was that there wasn’t as much blood as he’d thought there’d be. That was quickly overridden with the self-reminder that there could still be a lot of internal damage. Broken bones, punctured organs, and severed blood vessels were all possibilities, even with the borderline magical protection their auras offered.

He saw Noah – a boy whose form was largely covered in a lab coat. Once pristine white, it was now encased in a noticeable layer of grime and drying fluids. He was currently kneeling next to one of the crew chiefs, spreading antiseptic across his arm in preparation for an IV drip. His weapon, a bulky crossbow, was on the floor within easy reach in case a Grimm somehow broke through their perimeter.

“Friendly coming in,” Jaune announced. Noah glanced in his direction and nodded before turning back to his work.

“Conrad filled me in,” he said. “The crew chiefs are in bad shape. I still need some time to stabilise them, but you can start moving CFVY out.”

It was then that Jaune turned his attention to the second-years. As per Conrad’s initial report, Yatsuhashi (a large, muscular swordsman) and Fox (a lithe, dark skinned boy) were out cold. Field dressing covered the former’s back, most likely concealing the result of a particularly nasty swipe from the now deceased Nevermore. He couldn’t see any external wounds on the latter.

Velvet (a rabbit Faunus) was up and awake, but her eyes were unfocused, and she occasionally tilted her head to one side before jerking back upright. Coco appeared the most lucid out of the crash victims, alternating between keeping Velvet steady, and cursing as she fiddled with a black, metallic case. She looked up as Noah finished his explanation and pointed to Yatsuhashi and Fox.

“Them first,” her words were short and clipped. However much pain she was in, she was putting on a brave front for the rest of them. Despite what command had said about transferring responsibility for the Strike Team onto Jaune, she was still their de facto leader. He respected her grit, but it wasn’t going to do them much good if she collapsed on them.

“Is Coco able to fight?” he asked Noah, who shook his head.

“At best, she’s got a concussion that I don’t have time to treat. We need to get her to the centre where I or someone else can take a better look.”

Any protests Coco would have made at the verdict were cut off as Pyrrha reappeared with the pilot, who had one of her arms slung over her shoulders.

“Set her down there,” instructed Noah, then addressed the pilot directly, all the while continuing to tend to the crew chief. “Where are you injured, ma’am?”

“Left arm feels like it’s broken,” the pilot said through gritted teeth, as she was gently lowered. She pointed to the small arms storage container and motioned for Pyrrha to help her load a magazine into a submachine gun. “Lower ribs hurt like a bitch and I’m seeing double.”

“Alright. Pyrrha, Jaune. Trauma kit’s over there,” Noah pointed. “I need you to get the stretcher and start moving some of these guys out of here.”

They did as instructed and started unfolding the metal frame. Once it was fully extended and locked in, they lifted Yatsuhashi onto the overlaying leather. Avanti was around three hundred metres from their current position. It was practically a short jog. But with their current ‘load’ and the multiple trips they’d have to make, it was going to be difficult to keep up the momentum. Might as well start off with carrying the heaviest casualty first.

After securing their senior to the stretcher, they grabbed the handles (Jaune at the front, and Pyrrha at the back). Slowly, they rose from a crouch to standing positions, careful to maintain balance.

“Baylee. Conrad. Your teams set?” Jaune said into his scroll.

“CYAN’s in position. We’ve got your alley right here.”

“BEIJ here. Avanti’s lowering one of their barricades.”

“Alright. Pyrrha. You good?”

“Ready.”

Jaune took a deep breath.

“Go!”

His legs started pumping.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The AHC (Atlas Huntsman Corps)**

From their formation after the Great War, Huntsmen were brought into Remnant as a group of elite individuals burdened with the unenviable task of defending the people from the creatures of Grimm. Nurtured from youth to hone their skills and resolve, those who elect to see through their training and graduate from their respective Academy are promised little more than a life full of blood, sweat and tears. It is not a duty for the faint of heart, and many a candidate has flinched away from the opportunity. But those who commit to, if not also revel in, the idea of standing against the asphyxiating darkness and threat of annihilation, represent the finest warriors in mankind’s history.

The creation and training of Huntsmen is a process closely monitored and regulated by all four Kingdoms. However, once they earn their final qualification, these men and women face surprisingly little scrutiny from their governments. Free to operate as they please, there have been several cases of Huntsmen utilising their hard-earned skills for less than exemplary means, from petty theft to and acts of extortion and terror, and outright murder.

When Atlas was formed in 32 AGW, it sought to ‘reign in’ the unpredictable nature of such Huntsmen by incorporating them into its military. In 34 AGW, the doors to a revamped Atlas Academy were officially opened, and the Atlas Huntsmen Corps was formed.

Existing as part of both AASOC (Atlas Army Special Operations Command), and the multi-service JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command), the AHC falls directly under the Atlas military’s authority. While those who graduate from academies in other Kingdoms become fully-fledged Huntsmen, Atlas Academy requires its students to serve in active duty for an undisclosed amount of time and fulfil a secret criterion before even offering them the chance to pass another gruelling qualification course to join the AHC. Only then may they be granted the vaunted title.

Many details of the AHC’s exact composition, formation, and operations are classified to the public. However, it is clear they adhere to their earlier training by continuing to deploy in teams of four, and can work both independently, and in conjunction with regular forces. They also appear to retain their own hand-crafted weapons, but their attire has been somewhat standardised through regulations.

In the present day, the AHC is one of many units involved in counter-terrorism efforts against organisations such as the White Fang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...maybe it's just me, but I can't take a group called 'Ace Ops' all that seriously. Oh well. To each their own.


	5. Chapter 5

Jaune panted as he and Pyrrha practically flew into Avanti with Yatsuhashi. Their fellow students had done a remarkable job of keeping the Grimm off of them, but the short trip had left his legs shaking from the sudden exertion. He noted with a little envy that Pyrrha herself seemed unphased by the running.

Just outside the entrance, Baylee’s team was laying down covering fire, while Nora, Ren, and CYAN had positioned themselves in a line snaking back to the crash site. He and Pyrrha were just a few steps into the building, taking in their surroundings. On the town centre’s white tiled floor was a maze of barriers, weapons and ammunition. Manning the makeshift defences were a haphazardly armed group of people, from security to police and even the odd civilian. Some were already approaching him, one of whom was a man nearing his forties, wearing a white button-up shirt with a black tie and suspenders. He was cradling a shotgun with a drum magazine and had a belt of grenades slung over his shoulder. Jaune privately wondered if he should be worried about a potentially gung-ho wannabe vigilante.

“Set him down,” Shotgun Man said. Jaune and Pyrrha obliged, lowering Yatsuhashi to the floor. A couple of people in dark blue uniforms quickly descended on the unconscious second-year. Shotgun Man continued to address them. “What’re your names?”

“Jaune and Pyrrha,” he said, pointing with his thumb to indicate his teammate. “Team JNPR, Beacon Academy. We were meant to land on the roof, but…”

“Yeah. We saw,” said Shotgun Man. “Detective Heyman. VPD. Looks like you’ve still got some people out there.”

Jaune nodded. He was at least a little comforted to learn the man before him was an officer and not just any regular citizen.

“We’ve got six more. All wounded,” he said. “I’ve got the other teams covering us, so we can carry them all back here. Do you have any doctors?”

“We’ve got some EMTs who were on call before everything went to hell,” said Detective Heyman, gesturing to the pair who were looking over Yatsuhashi. “They’ve helped us set up a triage point on the third floor. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Right,” said Jaune. “I’m going back out there.”

“Those VTOLs of yours coming back?”

Jaune grimaced and shook his head. Pitcher Flight had officially received the order to withdraw to prevent themselves and their escorts from being overwhelmed. In time, Atlas and Vale would be able to launch a large enough of an air contingent to beat back the flying threats. But as a QRF, their numbers had been limited. He and the other teams had been explicitly deployed to buy time for a proper mobilisation. The detective appeared to understand, if reluctantly.

“Okay. We’ve got some shooters on the upper floors who can help keep the Grimm off you. Once you’re all in, we’re gonna think up a proper strategy.”

“Sounds good,” said Jaune. By then, the EMTs had transferred Yatsuhashi to another stretcher, leaving him and Pyrrha free to carry theirs back to the crash site. He gestured to his teammate, and they moved to the entrance. Seeing that their immediate front was clear, thanks to BEIJ, they began their sprint back to 1-1.

* * *

By the time they got Coco, the last crash victim, into Avanti, Jaune’s legs were ready to turn to jelly. CFVY’s leader had refused the stretcher, leaving him to support her on his shoulder as they half-walked, half-hobbled their way to (relative) safety.

“We’re done!” he said into his scroll. “JNPR and CYAN! Fall back to the centre!”

“Roger. CYAN falling back.”

Conrad’s team made their way in, followed closely by Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha. The barricade began sliding shut as BEIJ backed their way into Avanti. Baylee was the last one in, firing her hand cannon all the way. They kept shooting until the steel walls came back up. Coco gave him a grunt of thanks, then retracted her arm from his shoulder to stand on her own, leaning heavily on her left leg.

“Nice work, kid.”

Jaune turned to see who’d spoken to him. Detective Heyman was still there, shotgun pointed downwards and finger off the trigger now that there weren’t any Grimm in their immediate vicinity. Next to him was a similarly dressed officer, sporting a beard and hefting a long and cumbersome anti-material rifle.

Bearded Sniper called out to him again.

“You in charge of your pals here?”

Jaune shook his head and pointed to Coco. With all the running, he hadn’t had time to verify with Watch Master if he should relinquish his command over the Strike Team back to her. Bearded Sniper raised a brow, probably at her clearly wounded state. Coco stared back with a slight upward tilt of her head, and he nodded.

“Alright. Huddle up and we’ll give you a briefing.”

Jaune and the other leaders called for their teams to do as instructed. Coco was the only one left from CFVY, as Yatsuhashi and Fox were still out, and Velvet had been sent to whoever was in charge of treating the crash survivors.

“I’m Detective Burns. Some of you have already met Detective Heyman, here. We’re from the VPD and have been heading the defence of this town centre ever since Armageddon decided to pay us a visit.”

“What’s the situation here?” asked Coco.

“Floors five through seven have been completely locked down after Clucky McScreechums crashed on the roof,” said Detective Heyman. “Automated defences are working overtime, and anyone who can handle a gun’s either guarding entry points or shooting at the suckers trying to get through those entry points.”

Even as Coco nodded, Jaune saw her sucking in a breath as one of her hands twitched to what he guessed was a bruise or cut hidden by her clothes. “Those barricades can’t hold forever.”

“Agreed,” said Detective Burns. “And the Nevermore’s still smoking up top. We won’t be able to land any reinforcements here for a while. Those VTOLs that got you here bought us a little breathing room. But now that they’re gone, the Grimm are gonna focus back on us.”

“We’ll help you hold the centre until we can get some more transports and men in here,” Coco said. “If the barricades fall, we can keep the Grimm bottled up on the ground floor. We can also have a…team…on…”

Noah and Conrad caught their senior as she faltered in the middle of talking and lost her balance.

“Looks like the adrenaline’s worn off,” said the former. “I didn’t have time to check over her properly. She needs medical, now.”

“Bullshit,” hissed Coco, even as her paling face twisted in pain. “I can still fight.”

“Not like this, you can’t,” said Detective Heyman, who waved over a couple of bystanders that proceeded to place Coco on the stretcher Jaune and Pyrrha had used earlier. Coco scowled at them and gave her black case one final frustrated thump with her fist. Only then did it occur to Jaune that it must have been her weapon, damaged in the crash. Its breakdown appeared to be the final straw, and with a final curse, she let herself be laid on the stretcher.

Before they could start moving her to the upper floors, she called out to Jaune, and he moved next to her. For all her tenacity just a few seconds ago, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. It looked like she was finally listening to her rattled body.

“Tell HQ I’m taking a nap,” she grunted. “Until I’m up…you’re in charge.”

Even though Jaune had technically been leading the others since 1-1 had gone down, the verbal acknowledgement was the final push that brought the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He was in command. He was responsible now. The development was exhilarating in the worst way possible. He nodded.

“Yeah. I got it. Get some rest, now.”

He rejoined the group, as Coco was carried to the upper levels.

“Your friend had the right idea,” said Detective Burns. “Right now, the only thing keeping us safe are those barricades. The big ones we need to worry about are the main entrances for the east and west. If they go down, things are gonna get real complicated for all of us.”

To punctuate his observation, a series of ‘thunks’ reverberated in their ears. It was the sound of Grimm ramming, punching, and clawing at the metal barriers. Their attempts were quickly followed by a volley of gunfire from the defendants overlooking the streets from the upper floors, as well as the town centre’s automated turrets. Some of the students, including Jaune himself, fidgeted with their weapons. Whether they were nervous or just itching to kill something, he couldn’t say.

“I need a group on the fourth floor to cover me while I snipe and look out for anything curious enough to come through the top floors. Detective Heyman and the remaining teams will stay here and keep the Grimm outta triage. Any questions?”

“You know how to use that?” said Baylee, referring to the anti-material rifle. It was more a genuine query than an accusation. Jaune couldn’t fault her for her question. Police officers in Vale were seldom seen carrying anything bigger than a pistol. With how much firepower the two Detectives were holding between them, he had to admit he was curious, if not also a little wary of their choice in arsenal. Detective Burns nodded.

“Yeah. I used to be a Marine Scout Sniper and took a course with the VFF.”

“VFF?”

“Vacuo Foreign Forces.”

Jaune had heard of the Vacuo Marksmen. While it might not have a military anywhere near as big as Atlas or even Vale, the desert-based Kingdom was known to produce some of the finest sharpshooters in all of Remnant.

“And Detective Heyman here was a tanker in the Army. Don’t hold it against him, he didn’t know any better.”

“Shove it, crayon muncher,” scoffed Detective Heyman.

“So, don’t worry about us,” continued Detective Burns. “We can handle ourselves.”

Seeing that the other students were unanimously satisfied with the answer, Jaune nodded.

“Okay. Conrad. Take your team and cover Detective Burns. BEIJ and JNPR will help guard the ground floor here. My guys have the east, while Baylee takes the west entrance.”

“Gotcha.”

“Loud and clear.”

This was it. After their initial disastrous attempt to reach the town centre, they were finally ready to fulfill their main objective. They would hold this position, which by itself was one of several that Vale desperately needed to keep the Grimm contained. Without them, the city would come that much closer to falling. He couldn’t allow that. For all that was good in the world, they _would_ hold.

He unsheathed his sword with a distinctive ‘ring’ and expanded his shield. In the dash back and forth from the crash site to Avanti, he’d been forced to stow away Crocea Mors. The blade glinted in the shopping centre’s lights. It was dramatic and cheesy. But right now, after suffering the jarring incapacitation of CFVY, and finally set to make their stand, he figured they could all use a little theatrics.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

* * *

**Codex Entry: The Paladin-Enforcer Debate**

In 75 AGW, Atlas was ready to replace their ageing M1A3 Sensha main battle tank. Looking for something that had both the firepower and durability to combat the Grimm, as well as the manoeuvrability to help the military adapt to asymmetric warfare, Atlas opened itself up to proposals. By 76 AGW, two ‘finalists’ had emerged.

On one side was the Schnee Dust Company’s (SDC’s) XM290 – a single-pilot Battlesuit standing at over five metres tall and equipped with a M80 Pulse Cannon for each arm, and a quartet of missile racks able to load a variety of warheads. Its hands are suitable for both melee and utility (e.g. construction), ensuring it will always be of use both on and off the battlefield. Able to reach running speeds upwards of sixty-five kilometres per hour, its thirty-seven tonne chassis also lets the XM290 literally throw its weight around with some of the largest Grimm in Remnant, as well as serve as an impromptu wrecking ball when the need arises.

Exoskeletons had been considered before by Atlas as an invaluable method of boosting the speed, strength, and durability of their troops. But they’d yet to implement such experimental technology in a widespread manner outside of the proving grounds. The XM290 was an unprecedented breakthrough that could ensure the safety of their men and women in the field by letting them deploy fewer and tougher personnel to the fight.

But the XM290 was far from perfect. The exuberant amount of parts and wiring required to emulate bipedal movement and retain dexterity necessitated an infuriating amount of maintenance. Breakdowns during combat simulations were frequent, and the cost of replacement components left much to be desired. Additionally, by the Square-Cube Law, the XM290 is an inherently inefficient design. Intimidating as its silhouette may be at first glance, upscaling the size and surface area of an object yields increasingly small dividends of strength, in exchange for larger energy requirements to enable that strength. Were it not for the incredible output of its Hoshino Reactor in powering its many servos and pistons, the XM290 would have struggled and failed to not collapse under its own weight. And it may very well do so anyways in a fight, where its legs would be prime targets for focused fire or sabotage.

Where the SDC’s XM290 sought to revolutionise armoured warfare, Tacitus Defence Front’s (TDF’s) XM7 MBT has adopted the mentality of ‘build on what you have’. Weighing in at a comparatively heavier forty-two tonnes, the XM7 improved on the M1 Sensha in nearly every conceivable way. Possessing reactive ceramite plating, a twin turbo engine, two M37A2 MMGs (Medium Machine Guns), one M75 HMG (Heavy Machine Gun) and a 120mm M350A2 Smoothbore Cannon, it represents the pinnacle of modern mobile land weapon system platforms.

The XM7 provided a near antithetical choice to the XM290. While the latter acted as an imposing brawler that could dish out pain at close and point-blank range, the former was a pragmatist that wanted to win its fights before its opponents even knew what was happening. It does, however, still require the ‘traditional’ four-man crew layout (commander, driver, gunner, and loader). In this regard, the military has to continue spending more time and money training additional personnel. But many believe this to be a worthy trade-off in comparison to the XM290’s numerous equipment headaches.

Competition between the two designs was fierce, with the SDC’s financial backing of the XM290 swaying some in the military, while others firmly advocated for TDC’s XM7 and its capacity to eschew more ‘flashy’ designs in favour of functionality.

In 77 AGW, to the frustration of many, Atlas elected to approve both proposals as the M290 Paladin Battlesuit and M7 Enforcer MBT. Supporters on either side were unsatisfied with the compromise, fearing that splitting resources to manufacture both would prevent their preferred design from reaching its full potential.


	6. Chapter 6

“This is Hatchet 1-Actual. We’re moving to secure Parker Hotel. Facing light resistance. Over.”

“Archer 2-1. Target is a mass of Grimm running through Sanzar Street. Need a gun run down the road with your 900s. How copy? Over.”

“Litter 4-4. This is Thumper 3-2. Requesting MEDEVAC for ten civilians. Over.”

“Clubber 1-3. I have Meteor 1-1. A flight of four F-38As. Standby for relay.”

“Taipan 2-2. Hostile on your six. Brake right! Brake right!”

James tuned out the buzz of radio chatter and status reports, returning his full attention to the war conference.

In the _Resolute’s_ War Room, he and Kenchiro were connected to real-time feeds of various military and government heads. To his front-right was the CSC, a group of six of Vale’s most senior military personnel. To his direct front were Headmaster Ozpin, Vale’s Secretary of Defence Windsor Hellbraun, and the three members of the Vale Council. Finally, on the left were Commissioner Laghari of the VPD, Colonel Serena Faust, and Colonel Harold Yun, the last two of whom were in full battle gear and respectively leading Atlas’ Marine and Army contingents.

Under most circumstances, James couldn’t imagine just how much paperwork and preliminary organisation would have been needed to make this meeting happen. Requesting the time and attention of Vale’s most powerful leaders would have been a bureaucratic nightmare. But with their current crisis, and Ozpin’s sway over the Kingdom, Vale had sent the invitation within minutes. It probably also helped that he and Kenchiro had been so quick to lend their men and ships to the defence.

They’d sent in their first (and only) wave. Composed almost entirely of Atlas’ troops and Beacon’s students, it wasn’t meant to close the Breach, or even stop the Grimm’s advance. It was to buy time for the bulk of Vale’s own military, which had been scrambling for the past half hour to deploy en masse, to move back into the main city and push the creatures out. He knew it, Ozpin knew it, Kenchiro knew it, they all knew it. As of now, they were giving a general update to the Council, who had thus far remained mostly silent, willing to let them do their work.

“The 7th Aerial Fleet will reach engagement range with the Grimm in five minutes,” said Kenchiro. “With our point-defence and missile systems, we will endeavour to attain air superiority over the breached area.”

“Ninety percent of my students have reached their assigned objectives, and the rest are en route,” said Ozpin. “I have also received authorisation from Headmasters Lionheart and Theodore to deploy the visiting students of Haven and Shade Academies.”

James had already given Ozpin permission to send out Atlas’ own students. His conscience screamed at him for effectively throwing more young adults and teenagers into the meat grinder, but right now they needed every last one of them.

“How’s our ground team looking, Colonel Yun?” he asked.

“We’ve set up a joint FOB (Forward Operating Base) at the Cobalt Stadium,” replied the Atlas Army officer. “Our forces are splitting to make a perimeter, branching out from Janice Interchange. My men are headed south, while Colonel Faust’s Marines are going north.”

“Once we’ve locked down our sectors, we’ll be ready to push,” added Colonel Faust. “But even with air support, we’ll have to move slow and make sure we don’t let anything sneak past us.”

“All available Vale military assets have been recalled to the city proper,” said Secretary Hellbraun. “The 2nd Aerial Fleet from the south, and the 3rd Fleet from the northwest are heading in with units from the 1st and 4th Infantry Divisions, and the 2nd and 3rd Marine Expeditionary Brigades. They’ll hit the main city perimeter in half an hour. The 1st Armoured Division is also inbound, but won’t arrive for at least another hour.”

“Nesara Air Force Base is scrambling the 1st and 5th Fighter Wings and the 2nd Attack Wing,” rounded out General Octarion of the CSC and Vale Air Force. “We’ll have squadrons on station to assist the Atlas 7th in five minutes and are also moving to lock down the airspace outside the walls.”

“Thank you, ladies, gentlemen,” said Councillor Meesh. “Do you have an estimate as to how long it will take us to neutralise this threat?”

James glanced at Kenchiro. In the minutes before the war conference, they’d hurriedly conversed with each other and come to the mutual agreement that this was going to be a long fight. Even if they could annihilate the Grimm and push them all the way back to the Breach, there was no guarantee Vale was secure. They would have to sweep every nook and cranny to make sure every single one of the invading creatures was dead. Then, there was the matter of sealing the Breach itself. To be safe, they’d need to push past the point of entry and maintain a constant guard while their engineers began repairs. At best, the city would be secure by dawn tomorrow. At worst, the city could remain a designated warzone for over a week. It would all depend on the next few hours, and how quickly and well their response forces handled themselves. Kenchiro bowed his head slightly, acknowledging James’ responsibility to answer the Councillor. James recognised he wasn’t being thrown under the bus. As the ranking officer, it was his duty.

“A sizeable portion of downtown Vale has been overrun, Councillors,” he said. “And multiple suburban areas are at risk. Our men will advance as fast as they can. But until they can be reinforced by Vale’s own forces, they must proceed cautiously. One mistake could cause our entire line to collapse and be overwhelmed. And with the heavy civilian presence, our naval and artillery units won’t be able to bring their weapons to bear on the ground targets.”

“I understand, General,” said Councillor Meesh. He looked about ready to say something else but was inadvertently cut off when a Lieutenant approached Kenchiro. A few hushed whispers followed before the junior officer moved away. James saw the Vice Admiral exhale lightly through his nose before addressing the others.

“Our spotters have identified what appears to be a particularly severe concentration of Grimm forming a spearhead.”

As his colleague spoke, the holoprojector, which had been displaying a map of the Breach underneath the portraits of the war conference members, altered to reflect the updated intel. Amongst the red areas indicating the presence of the Grimm, a moderate portion was highlighted in white before turning a darker crimson. James felt the muscles connecting his body to his prosthetic arm twitch as he imagined how the clean imagery before him masked the horrific onslaught that was occurring just a few kilometres away and a few hundred metres below. It was linear relationship: More Grimm meant more casualties – most of them being fatalities. And like a rolling ball of death and destruction, this group was looking to raise the numbers.

“Their current trajectory puts them on a direct line to Beacon Academy,” Kenchiro continued. “Unless they change direction, they will hit two of our designated strongpoints, being held by Strike Teams SAGE and CFVY. After that, they will engage our joint Army-Marine line. If we can’t stop them there, we risk a significant unchecked force running rampant throughout the rest of the city.”

In their organisation and deployment of the Strike Teams, they’d attempted to keep the lower years furthest away from the Breach, placing the more seasoned students to bear the brunt of the Grimm’s advance. SAGE and CFVY were examples of the former, both having a trio of first-year teams being led by a second-year team. But something had gone wrong. Maybe they’d spread their forces too thin, leaving too many gaps for large pockets of Grimm to slip through. Or maybe they hadn’t sent out the students quickly enough to make a significant dent in the horde. Regardless of the cause, they were about to have their youngest and least experienced fighters face off against the largest threat to the entire Kingdom.

“We need to reinforce their positions,” declared James. But even as he said that, he knew the time frame just wouldn’t allow it. With how quickly the newfound group of Grimm was moving, they had less than three minutes before they fell upon SAGE. If they continued at their current pace, they’d reach CFVY in another two minutes. Even if they had the ground forces to spare at the moment, there was no way they could reach the students in time. But he had to try. “Divert as many air assets as we can to conduct precision strikes against the ‘superwave’. “

Even as Kenchrio began to relay his own orders, James was aware of the Vale Council looking at each other uneasily. There was a silent discourse going on between the three leaders, and he wasn’t sure he’d like what they were debating over. After a few seconds, one of them, Councillor Harper, turned to face his camera.

“In the event that the situation deteriorates even further, would the Atlas 7th Fleet be prepared to…conduct a naval bombardment on the Residential District?”

The response from many of the conference members was almost immediate. James saw Secretary Hellbraun’s brows furrow, while Admiral Compton and General Leblanc of the CSC jerked their heads slightly to look at where the Council would have been displayed in front of their own faces.

“With respect, Councillor,” said Kenchiro, “we’re already stretching our jurisdiction over the fleet. Without the Atlas Council’s and JCS’s explicit permission, we would be unable to fire directly on the city.”

James couldn’t help but notice his colleague hadn’t outright denied the prospect of turning their biggest guns onto the streets and buildings. His tone had made it clear he was under no circumstance in favour of the idea, but…he was right.

War was a numbers game, and survival even more so. All too often, there wasn’t a difference between the two. If they kept letting the Grimm tear through the city, more lives would be lost. However, if they could eliminate their vanguard, they would blunt the attacks, even for a few minutes. And with the might of Vale’s military less than an hour away, every one of those minutes would count. Their weapons didn’t discriminate. Without a doubt, people would be caught in the bombardment, but the mathematics spoke for themselves. Sacrifice a dozen, a hundred, a thousand even, here and now so they don’t lose hundreds of thousands in the coming hours.

Beyond the friendly and innocent casualties, there would be repercussions. Vale would bear witness to a foreign Kingdom firing on its own inhabitants. Even if the upper echelon understood the necessity of such an action, there was no guarantee the people would. PR nightmare wouldn’t even begin to describe the fallout. There was a good chance his and Kenchiro’s names would be mud. And what about the shipmen crewing the 7th Aerial Fleet? Would they follow through with the order to start shooting? How would they be received when they docked back home? How would they react to being told to turn their guns on civilians? Could they live with themselves? Could he and Kenchiro live with themselves?

As they, at the tentative urging of the Vale Council, put forward a request to speak to Atlas through the _Resolute’s_ secondary CCT, James continued pondering. Yet, when he looked back at the holotable, at the sea of red spreading throughout the city, he knew in his heart what he would do.

* * *

With an ear-splitting tear, the east barricade was ripped open.

In their short time as a team, JNPR had developed an order of battle that boiled down to Jaune and Ren distracting or tying up their foes, leaving them for Pyrrha and Nora to pick off one by one. Ren’s bursts of acrobatic movement and martial prowess allowed him to kite, harass, and often kill particularly large targets. Jaune…was more of a ‘dumb’ brawler. He would stand his ground, or wade into the largest group of Grimm he could find, and just start blocking and hacking away until the area around him was clear. A few months ago, he would have viewed such a role with shame and disgust. Right now, he couldn’t care less how he fought, just as long as it kept the people in Avanti safe.

He brought up his shield arm to quickly shout, “East barricade: down!” into his scroll before striding forward to meet his enemy. A hail of gunfire zipped past him as the town centre’s defendants fired into the horde. Their bullets cut into the Grimm, digging into their dark hides and blowing out chunks of flesh and bone. Some missed or bounced off the tougher ones, the rounds ricocheting into the walls, floor, and ceiling. Were it just Pyrrha and Nora firing, he would have trusted them to watch their aim. But with so many combatants around, he’d just have to hope he wouldn’t get nailed by a stray shot. If he did…well…that was what his aura was for.

Making sure his shield was angled to better deflect attacks, he approached the Grimm, a group of four Beowolves and a pair of Ursa. Thumping his sword against the shield, he let out a shout to get their attention. As expected, the creatures zeroed in on him, with the smaller, more agile wolves crossing the short distance between them in the blink of an eye. He made a quick, horizontal swipe with his sword arm.

One of the wolves dove under it, but the one behind it was mid-bound and unable to twist out of the way. The blade caught it right in its snarling mouth, cleaving all the way from gullet to abdomen. Jaune grunted as he yanked his sword out, along with a significant amount of blood, while shifting his left arm to catch the swipe of another wolf. The ring of claws against steel made his spine tingle, and he made sure to keep his feet steady as he swung downwards to cut off one of the offending limbs at the elbow joint.

By now, the Ursa were nearly upon him. A grenade from Nora sailed past the two lumbering bear-like creatures and detonated behind them. It wasn’t enough to hurt them, but the concussive force of the blast made them stumble. A second grenade followed, this time hitting one of the Ursa in its centre mass. The flash and ‘crack’ of the explosion revealed a gory mess of mulched flesh and minced organs. The Ursa stood still for a few seconds, took a couple of paces forward, then tumbled face first into the ground. Its dying gargle was lost in the roar of its comrade, as it continued its charge.

Jaune was in the middle of impaling the recently amputated Beowolf when the Ursa ploughed into him. His aura made the impact feel more like a light shove, but he was still sent flying head over heels. Crocea Mors’ enarmes ensured he held onto the shield, but he lost his grip on his sword when he landed on his back. It clattered a small distance away, and he had to roll to one side to avoid the Ursa’s stomp, which had been aiming to crush his head. He used the momentum to help him get back on his feet and dashed for the Grimm, whose primitive mind had been briefly stumped at how its target had seemingly disappeared. Gripping the top of his shield with his now free hand, he plunged the lower pointed part of the kite frame into the Ursa’s back, careful to avoid the spikes protruding out of its rear. The Ursa howled in pain, making a clumsy swing behind it that Jaune easily dodged. He must have hit the spine, as the creature fell to its knees, having lost control of its lower body.

A shout from Pyrrha had Jaune instinctively diving left, as his teammate used her semblance to guide Akouo above his head to decapitate a Beowolf, resulting in a spray of blood that coated the floor. He looked away from the viscera to prevent anything from getting in his eyes and retrieved his fallen sword. He returned to the Ursa, sidestepping its last desperate swipes, and thrust his blade into one of its eye sockets. It went still after that.

To his right, he saw Ren sliding under a third Ursa, letting off a quick burst with Stormflower to send a volley into its groin. While the creature fell to a knee, his teammate twisted around and started climbing its back, using the blades on his machine pistols like ice picks. When he reached the Ursa’s shoulders, he dug his weapons into the neck, which left the barrels pointing at the monster’s skull, and fired. The Ursa’s head jerked back and forth as round after round punched through its cranium.

There wasn’t much time to keep watching, as the thunder of an approaching group of Boarbatusks reached his ears. He turned and faced where the wrecked barricade was, seeing five in total. Two fell quickly to the onslaught of gunfire, tripping up a third with their riddled corpses. Jaune moved directly in front of one, crouching slightly to give off the impression of receiving a challenge. His mind wandered back to his very first class with Professor Port, and how he’d demonstrated the danger of going head on with the Boarbatusk, due to how easily its long, curved fangs could disarm the unprepared.

“Pyrrha. Bait!”

“Bait. Check!” acknowledged his teammate.

A second before the Grimm would have slammed into him, he shifted right, letting the bull-like creature almost slide off his shield like a ramp. Momentarily airborne, the Boarbatusk was sent flying, its vulnerable underbelly exposed. A bullet from Milo in its rifle form lanced through the soft skin and tumbled around the creature’s insides to cause immense pain and damage to its internal organs. An agonised squeal left its mouth before it unceremoniously crashed to the ground, knocking the breath out of its lungs. Two more shots from Pyrrha to its head ensured the Boarbatusk would stay quiet for good.

The last of the bounding creatures had slipped by Jaune and Ren and looked to be gunning for Nora. Jaune saw his teammate grin, as she shifted Magnhild into its war hammer configuration. Winding up with an almost leisurely spin assisted by activating the hammer’s rocket booster, his teammate let out a triumphant shout as the head of her weapon met with the head of the Boarbatusk. A meaty ‘thwack’ followed, indicating she’d successfully bypassed the fangs and hit the proverbial bullseye. The Boarbatusk’s front half was briefly sent upwards, then flopped back down, motionless. Not satisfied with her initial strike, Nora stayed in motion, performing another half-spin and bringing Magnhild down on the creature, whose head ceased to exist in any tangible manner, save for a pair of bloody tusks.

“Strike Team JNPR. This is Watch Master. Do you copy? Over.” came from Jaune’s scroll. In the respite they’d had before the Grimm started pouring through the entrance, Jaune had received authorisation from HQ to officially take command over Coco. He’d informed the higher ups of their situation, and they’d promised a relief force ASAP (As Soon As Possible). The lack of a definitive ETA annoyed him, however, he understood there wasn’t much he could do about it. The middle of a fight wasn’t the best time to take a call, but he didn’t really have a choice.

“This is JNPR. We copy,” he said, jumping back to avoid the snapping jaws of another Beowolf. In a flash, its torso was shredded by a round of buckshot. He glanced back to see Detective Heyman with the non-student defendants. The officer fired off another shot. When Jaune returned his gaze to the wolf, he saw one side of the Grimm’s face had been torn apart, leaving a mangled jaw to hang by a tendon and parts of its skull visibly cracked.

“JNPR. We’re tracking a high concentration of Grimm inbound on your position. ETA, three Mikes. Over.”

Jaune was in disbelief. Did command think they were just sitting on their asses, sipping drinks, and making small talk? He tried to be diplomatic with his response.

“Yeah…I uh…think they’re ahead of schedule,” he said, before exclaiming, “Ah shit!”

He threw himself to the floor to avoid a flying desk, which had been unfortunate enough to be in the path of a raging Ursa. He didn’t bother to look where it landed, but the high-pitched whimper that followed indicated a case of friendly fire. Unfortunately, his dive had placed him in the middle of another pack of enemies.

“Negative, JNPR,” came the reply. If Jaune wasn’t currently struggling with another Boarbatusk for possession over his sword, he might have heard a hint of panic in what had until now been a calm and collected voice from command. “The group you’re engaging is just the vanguard of a superwave of Grimm. Projections list twenty-five hundred plus hostiles about to hit Avanti.”

That got Jaune’s attention. JNPR wasn’t cut out for protracted engagements. Without the decades of training and experience that allowed veteran Huntsmen to fight for days on end without rest, they would crumble. Until now, their battles had been quick and one-sided, with their numbers, weapons, and teamwork giving them an overpowering advantage over isolated or severely weakened pockets of Grimm for them to practice on. Get in, clear the area, then get out. Their most challenging fight had been during initiation, when they’d joined with Team RWBY to go after a Nevermore and a Death Stalker. They’d been left exhausted and drained after that particular battle, dropping onto their beds and heading off to la la land before their heads could hit the pillows. There was no doubt JNPR had improved dramatically in the months following that particular encounter, but they were still novices. Against the tide of ‘smaller’ Grimm right now, with scores of gunmen and defence systems to back them up, they were holding. But Jaune was already beginning to feel fatigued. Adrenaline was doing what it could, but he’d yet to find his second wind. He flinched as a line of stray bullets sporadically peppered the ground next to him, incidently also nailing the Boarbatusk he was tussling with.

“R-Right, Watch Master,” he said into his scroll. “When can we expect help? Over.”

“The 7th Aerial Fleet’s about to begin clearing the skies with their ships. Once we’ve achieved air superiority, we’ll direct as many air units as we can to hit the superwave. Ground teams still have no ETA. Over.”

No decisive answer. This day was just getting better and better.

“Copy, Watch Master. Thanks for the heads up.” And with that, he cut the line and yelled, “JNPR! Regroup!”

He needed to get everyone on the same page, and there was no way he’d be able to do that while simultaneously fending off half a dozen creatures every five seconds. His teammates complied, dashing to his position all the while firing their weapons. Around his body, they formed a miniature firebase, guns pointed outwards and ears inwards.

“I need to talk to the other teams. Cover me, but listen in, too,” he said, then spoke into his scroll. “CYAN. BEIJ. Give me an update.”

“CYAN here. We’re still on the fourth floor. Everyone accounted for.”

“This is BEIJ. West barricade’s down, but we’re good for now.”

“Okay. Listen up,” said Jaune. “We’ve got a superwave of Grimm coming in.”

“Say again?” came Detective Burns’ voice, followed by the ‘crack’ of his anti-material rifle. Jaune had let the two officers tap into communications within their own Strike Team. He might have been in command, but found it prudent to let the two people who had actually been in the military to listen in. “Superwave? How many?”

“Thousands,” said Jaune. “They’ll be on us within minutes.”

“Well, shit,” said Detective Heyman. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaune saw the man changing drum magazines with a scowl. “How’d ya wanna handle this, Burnie?”

“We’ve still got chokepoints,” said Detective Burns. “Everyone retreats to the stairs and escalators. If we can keep them bottled up there, we limit their numbers advantage.”

“We’ll have to watch the windows,” added Detective Heyman. “Sooner or later, these fuckers are gonna start scaling the walls. Whatever happens, we need to keep them away from the wounded on the third floor.”

“Copy that. Hey, kid. You okay with this?”

Jaune wasn’t sure if he liked Detective Burns’ offhand title for him. But there wasn’t exactly time to negotiate a name change. Otherwise, their revised plan seemed sound.

“Yeah. My and Baylee’s teams will keep our positions as long as we can. After that, we’ll begin a fighting retreat to the second floor.”

“Roger that.”

“Detective Heyman, we’ll keep holding the Grimm. Can you let the other people on the ground floor know what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah, no sweat,” said Detective Heyman. Jaune heard him grumble something about a ‘Sheila’, before he cut his transmission.

“Alright. Huddle’s over,” Jaune said to his teammates. JNPR broke out of their crouched gathering and made to re-engage the Grimm up close and personal.

In retrospect, Jaune was pretty grateful for the huddle. Not because he’d been feeling irrationally lonely, or because he wanted a minute to just sit down and talk. Rather, because it had kept the team away from Avanti’s walls when they exploded inward to reveal a trio of Death Stalkers.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The Rush Hour Bombings**

The White Fang’s first act of terrorism occurred in 75 AGW. At 5:33pm, on the eve of a working day, explosives were detonated on three of Atlas’ underground lines, collapsing the tunnels and trapping thousands of people on their homebound commute.

Rescue teams worked desperately throughout the night and much of the next day to reach the distraught and injured. Despite their efforts, over two hundred people were killed in the bombings, and the Kingdom was sent into a wave of mourning. A mass funeral was held for the victims, and a monument erected in their memory in the following weeks.

If there was anything positive to come out of the Bombings, it was that synthetic platforms (of which many had played an instrumental role in response to the domestic crisis) had more than proven themselves as an integral part of societal growth. While many knew that robots and androids had the potential to mitigate, or even eliminate, the need for organics in strenuous and dangerous tasks, their tireless and efficient work had drastically accelerated rescue efforts. Whether it be for civilian, commercial, or militaristic purposes, they were here to stay, with the blessings of countless survivors and onlookers.

There had been many within Atlas’ government that had remained sympathetic to the Faunus Rights group and its tenets. The Bombings, however, swung public opinion against the once peaceful organisation hard. The coming months were filled with an onslaught of inquiries and counter-terrorism operations. From police investigation units to special forces, Atlas initiated its crackdown.

Anti-Faunus sentiment also spiked within the general populace. Minutes after the tunnel charges had blown, the White Fang had uploaded a video claiming exclusive responsibility for the attack. Pairing this with viral images and footage of the Bombing’s victims being dragged out of the tunnels, there was little to stop the surge of hatred and cries for vengeance that followed. Riots filled the streets, involving public humiliations and beatings of Faunus, many of whom had no allegiance or association with the White Fang. Such was the level of civil unrest that the Atlas Army had to be brought in to assist the APD (Atlas Police Department) in restoring order.

The White Fang was soon declared by The Big Four as a terrorist organisation. All of its known leaders and figureheads were placed on the Most Wanted Fugitives list. Legislation was swiftly passed to authorise the Atlas military any and all power it deemed necessary to bring an end to the organisation, and similarly oriented entities throughout the entirety of Remnant. While some have derided this as a dangerous blank check that infringes on the territories and sovereignty of the other Kingdoms, the overwhelming majority of both the Atlesian people and government have remained in favour of the sanction.

Proposals were made in 76 AGW for Atlas to occupy the continent of Menagerie, which contained over seventy percent of Remnant’s Faunus population. Such ideas, while initially popular amongst radicals, were eventually rejected as, in the words of the Atlas Council, “an untenable overextension of resources that would compromise Atlas morally, economically, and strategically."


	7. Chapter 7

Jaune swore as one of the Death Stalker’s claws snapped uncomfortably close to his head. He sidestepped left, then fell on his rear as the same Death Stalker’s stinger punched into the ground right in front of him. The snarl of a Beowolf from behind made him slam his back to the floor to dodge the smaller creature leaping for his neck. A volley of gunfire snapped centimetres above his prone form, scything through the wolf’s body, but merely bounced off the much larger, and much tougher Death Stalker’s shell.

A grenade from Detective Heyman was sent rolling under the scorpion’s exoskeleton. When it detonated, it sent a wave of white-hot fragmentation in all directions, with much of the shrapnel bouncing off the ground and piercing the Death Stalker’s underbelly. A hiss escaped the beast, morphing into an outright screech as Jaune took the opportunity to sprint around its side and eviscerate one of its legs. At the same time, Ren appeared, vaulting over the flailing claws to unload a pair of magazines into the its many eyes. More grenades, this time from Nora, followed as it tried and failed to shield both its face and legs. One of the explosives caught the pincers emerging from its mouth, sending chunks flying. Rifle rounds from Pyrrha hit the shredded area, three times in quick succession. Her bullets penetrated right through to the brain, leaving the Death Stalker to thud to the ground, lifeless.

The whole floor was slick with blood and the smoke of dissipating Grimm. The smell of bodily fluids and activated Dust permeated the area. Sweat beaded on Jaune’s forehead, and his muscles were screaming from exhaustion. His armour was riddled with scratch marks, and his clothes underneath were torn in multiple areas. His breaths were becoming increasingly ragged, and his left ankle was starting to throb.

“Baylee, Conrad. Status?” he shouted into his scroll. Every minute or so, he was checking in with the teams to make sure they were still okay. He didn’t get a verbal response from BEIJ’s leader. Just a short burst of roaring creatures, which were broken up by a couple of shots from her hand cannon and the whimper of a Beowolf being run through by her sabre.

“Conrad here. It’s looking pretty bad. The roads are full of these guys, and we’ve got some trying to climb the walls.”

“Copy. Do what you can,” Jaune said.

The superwave had arrived. For every creature they shot, beheaded or otherwise executed, there were more. There was always more. Bit by bit, they were giving ground, trading incremental amounts of territory for time. They were a few metres from the escalators, and Jaune could see and hear the sounds of fighting coming from BEIJ’s side at the west entrance. Some had already fallen back to the second floor and were shooting down below into the melee his and Baylee’s teams were pratically being forced to wade through. Only a few dared (or were stupid enough) to stay with the students.

“Now might be a good time to book it!” yelled Detective Heyman.

Every second mattered in this defence. The longer they held here, the longer they kept the Grimm away from the wounded on the third floor. When the prospect of air support and reinforcements was so close, yet so far away, they needed to stay until the last possible moment. Jaune was about to yell a disagreement, but he was cut off by a report from his scroll.

“Jaune! I’ve got a man down! Irisa’s down!”

Jaune vaguely remembered Ruby telling him Irisa was a friend of Yang’s when the two had attended Signal. She was a quiet girl, more often than not being found studying in the library. He’d seen her wield her naginata-rifle like she was in a dance, graceful and elegant in combat. If there ever was an antithesis to Team RWBY’s boisterous bruiser, she was it. Did opposites really attract? Maybe. But that didn’t matter right now.

Seeing Team CFVY get knocked out of the fight without firing a single shot of their own had been rough. In their triumphant charge to Avanti, they’d fallen from the sky like an angel that had lost its wings. But they’d survived. Battered and bruised as Coco and her teammates had been, they’d been able to pull them and their Oxhide’s crew out to Avanti. But they’d had air support, and a much less crowded area to work with. Right now, being one misstep away from being buried under a mass of snarling beasts, he found the sudden urge to agree with Detective Heyman’s advice.

He raised his shield arm to his mouth and screamed, “We’re falling back! JNPR! Cover BEIJ while they get Irisa to the second floor!”

They voluntarily collapsed their final positions. The last defendants on their level were sent running up the town centre’s stairs and escalators. Jaune and the other students moved back non-linearly, always darting one way or another, always firing and swinging their weapons, always finding one more Grimm to clip or finish off before retreating.

Slowly, agonisingly, they reached the stairs, from the top of which was streaming a constant barrage of fire. Jaune grunted as he used both arms to push back against an Ursa, leaving it free to be almost literally ripped apart by a storm of bullets from the other defendants.

“Up the stairs! Two at a time!” he called out to the others. “Baylee and Irisa first! Go! Go! Go!”

His fellow team leader nodded and, with her whimpering teammate draped over her shoulders, began climbing. Jaune tried not to look at how both of Irisa’s legs were bloodied and bent the wrong way at the knee.

As he turned back, he heard Baylee shouting, “It’s alright, you’re gonna be okay! Just focus on my voice, you hear me?”

This wasn’t right. They weren’t supposed to be taking more casualties. This was meant to be a strongpoint – a place where they could comfortably hold off the Grimm from.

His forlorn musing was interrupted when Baylee called out, “We’re set! Send the next two up!”

He let the remaining students from BEIJ go.

“Jaune. Things are getting pretty dicey up here,” said Conrad’s voice from his scroll. “We’ve got multiple hostiles on the fourth floor. They’re coming through the roof and windows.”

“Just keep them away from the wounded!” he yelled back.

“Roger that.”

“We’re good! Send the next two up!”

“Pyrrha! Ren! Move!”

His teammates nodded, sprinting up the stairs. Jaune and Nora, who’d run out of grenades and was now relegated to using Magnhild in its war hammer form, kept swinging and blocking against what may as well have been a sea of black, white, and red. Jaune roared as he swung Crocea Mors downwards to cut a vertical line down a Beowolf’s chest, but culdn’t finish it off before an Ursa’s paw clipped his left shoulder. Grimacing at the blow, he planted his shield into the offending creature’s foot before slicing at its abdomen with his sword. The Ursa howled as its innards rapidly became outwards, then fell backwards as a well-placed round from an upstairs shooter caught it in the mouth.

“Jaune! Nora! We’re up! Come on!”

He made a one last sweeping motion with his weapon before about-facing and taking the steps two at a time. While running, he fumbled with his scroll.

“Watch Master. This is JNPR. We’re getting hammered by the superwave. Where the fuck are those reinforcements?”

“The 7th Fleet’s achieved air superiority over your area JNPR. Gunships are about to commence their runs, and the 15th IBCT is moving as fast as they can. You just need to hold out a little longer. Over.”

Jaune wanted to cuss out the operator on the other end. He’d reached the top of the steps and had swivelled around to beat back the creatures that had followed and either dodged or powered through the gunfire that was raining down on them. When he turned, he was almost face to face with a Beowolf who had led the chase. Unable to react with Crocea Mors in time, Jaune made a split-second decision and headbutted the offending Grimm. To him, with the assistance of his aura, it felt like someone had rapped their knuckles on his forehead. To the Beowolf, it was a little more painful, evident by how it let out a strangled howl, losing its footing and tumbling unceremoniously back to the ground floor, its form riddled by bullets the whole way.

Jaune smiled tightly, frustration momentarily vented, and said, “Roger that, Watch Master. JNPR out!” before cutting the connection. His legs were reminding him of the mad sprint he’d just made. There wasn’t much fuel left in the tank. This was bad.

“Hey, kid. We get an ETA for those Atlesians?” asked Detective Burns over the comms.

Before Jaune could respond, the sound of crumbling brick and mortar cut through his hearing, as a King Taijitu burrowed its head into the town centre. A hair-raising hiss came out of the white serpent’s head. Its forked tongue flicked up and down for a fraction of a second, and then it lunged, fangs bared and intent clear. There was no time for him to react. His mind could barely process the speed at which it struck.

Jaune may have lied his way into Beacon, but Erwin almost hadn’t made it through initiation. Having forgotten his locker keycode, he’d shown up to the cliffside without his weapon. Professor Goodwitch had almost sent him packing then and there, but Headmaster Ozpin had permitted him to launch with the others, on the condition that he pass initiation with his own bare hands. He and Baylee had been the last two students to emerge from the Emerald Forest with their relic. Together, they’d been sorted into Team BEIJ. And though his occasional absentmindedness had earnt him no small amount of playful scorn from the other students, underneath they’d all had a healthy respect for his tenacity and willingness to see through a fight.

For a moment, the world slowed to a crawl. Jaune saw Erwin’s eyes widen, and his back started twisting to the right in a desperate move to evade the oversized snake. He wasn’t fast enough, and there were flashes of blue and white as the fangs beat against his classmate’s aura. With all his might, Jaune willed him to withstand the bite. Erwin couldn’t let it through. He couldn’t.

There was a ‘snap’, a flair of luminescent shards flying in all directions…and the mouth of the King Taijitu clamped down on Erwin.

* * *

“Watch Master to Strike Team SAGE. What’s your status?”

…

“Strike Team SAGE. This is Watch Master. Do you copy?”

“This is SAGE!...He’s gone!"

“Say again, SAGE?“

“Gareth, cover the left! He’s dead! Samir’s fucking dead!”

“Ma’am. What’s your name?”

“This is Ebony of Strike Team SAGE! We’re getting fucked over here!”

“Okay, Ebony. Can you give me a status of your teams and your LZ?”

“The mansion’s overrun. There were too many of them! Samir tried to…he was hit. I couldn’t get to him! Grimm everywhere!”

“What’s the status of your Strike Team?”

“No idea! I’ve got three guys with me. The rest had to–son of a bitch!–the rest were cut off! You gonna bail us outta here or what, Watch Master?”

“Ebony. We’ve got a flight of close air support craft inbound on your position. They’ll clear the area around the mansion and give us a window to try to evacuate your Strike Team. I just need you to hang in there for two minutes. Do you understand?”

“Too slow! We’re dying over here! You need to get here faster!”

“Ebony. I promise you if you can just hold on for a little longer, we’ll have you–“

“Shit! Urith’s down! Randall, where the fuck are you going? Get your ass back here! Gareth, gimme some cover for the firsties! We gotta–“

James’ fist pounded on the holoprojector as the broadcasted transmission between Strike Team SAGE and command was lost. Even as the latter continued trying to re-establish contact with the former, he moved to address the rest of the war conference.

“Councillors–“

Kenchiro turned his head to look at him. As their eyes met, James saw a flare of resignation in the Vice Admiral’s expression. But afterwards there was no hesitation, just acceptance and a prayer for forgiveness for what was about to happen.

_I’m sorry._

_I know. And I’ll do it._

“–I request that you give us the final authorisation for the 7th Aerial Fleet to conduct a naval bombardment on the Residential District of Vale.”

The Atlas Council had responded quickly to their call for an impromptu meeting. After receiving a quick rundown on the Breach, James’ and Kenchiro’s government heads had permitted them to fire on Vale, but only with one last acknowledgement from the Vale Council itself.

The skies were clear. With an unbridled fury, the 7th Aerial Fleet had come in and cleansed every flying hostile in sight, leaving their aircraft free to fall upon the Grimm on the ground. But they still didn’t have enough troops. Reinforcements from Vale’s Air Force, and Army, Marine and Navy Aviation Branches had provided a welcome boost to their fire support, but it still wasn’t enough. There were just too many Grimm pouring out of that godforsaken Breach. Vale’s 2nd and 3rd Fleets and their ground complements were minutes away from the main city’s borders. But even with their numbers, there was no way they’d all be able to land at the majority of their established ‘strongpoints’. They’d underestimated just how many Grimm they’d face, and their students were paying the price. Atlas had the means to wipe the superwave off the map. They could cauterise a few select areas and leave their air units to finish off the stragglers. The Grimm would move to fill the gaps, but if their men could make a dash for the bombarded areas, they’d be in a much better position to receive the reinforcements from Vale’s divisions and expeditionary brigades. It would be horrific. Innocent people and friendly combatants were almost certainly going to die. Under any other circumstance, it would be a war crime. It may very well still be determined as such. But they would win. They would survive.

Looking at the members of the CSC, Commissioner Laghari, Secretary Hellbraun, and Colonels Yun and Faust, James knew they’d come to the same conclusion, no matter how reluctantly. He looked at Ozpin’s live feed. His fellow headmaster’s face was blank. Then, he looked at the Vale Council, waiting to see if they’d follow through on what had originally been their own suggestion to fire on the city.

“On behalf of the Vale Council,” said Councillor Severax. “The Atlas 7th Aerial Fleet is hereby authorised to fire on the main city’s areas that contain a Grimm presence with whichever armaments it deems necessary.”

James immediately marked the superwave on the holomap. As a carrier-command ship, the _Resolute_ wasn’t equipped to conduct bombardments. They’d have to call on one of the escort ships instead. A Lancer-class Destroyer’s LLBs (Light Laser Batteries) on their lowest power setting still placed everything within a thousand metres of the targeted point at severe risk. But it was better than using their Indomitable-class Dreadnought’s twin particle lances, which would outright vaporise half a dozen blocks. Kenchiro appeared to think along similar lines.

“Contact the Destroyer: _ASA Cataphract_. Have it link up with one of our–“

“Let me talk to them.”

Ozpin’s voice cut through the conference. The Council looked ready to reprimand him for interrupting Kenchiro’s orders, but James pre-empted them.

“To who, Ozpin?”

“The students.”

He didn’t have to specify which students he was talking about. Strike Team SAGE may have been overrun, but their position was near the edge of the superwave, which had cut right through them. At this point, their bombardment would have to target Strike Team JNPR’s position. It had formerly been designated as Strike Team CFVY, but after the entire second-year team had been incapacitated, command had been transferred to one of the first-years. Their position showed the highest concentration of Grimm, and was therefore the ideal place to target. They wouldn’t hit the team’s exact location, to attempt to preserve both their lives and the landing zone, but they were going to fire close enough. The fallout from their guns was still going to be destructive. James could only hope it wouldn’t also be lethal.

He understood Ozpin’s desire to contact JNPR. But every moment they spent talking was another moment they let the superwave run through the city.

“You have one minute,” he said. “After that, we will commence the bombardment.”

* * *

They were on the stairs leading to the third floor. They had three students from BEIJ, and two from CYAN down. They were bloodied, broken, bruised, maybe even dead. Ren was out cold. He’d been dragged away with a gash on his chest and a swelling bump on the back of his head.

Seven students and a handful of civilian peacekeepers against what felt like the entire world. They were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

Slashing at an Ursa’s back to distract it long enough for Nora’s hammer to crush its skull, Jaune looked around him.

Streaks and pools of blood peppered the floors, walls, and ceiling. Display cabinets and shopfront glass had been shattered to leave little, glinting, sharp fields. There were so many bodies, he couldn’t distinguish between the living and the dead. Dust and debris was everywhere. More cracks and holes appeared by the minute, as Grimm continuously found or forced new entry points to crawl in from. Expended shell casings and magazines littered the tiles. Exposed and severed wiring made the lights flicker and cut out. A burst pipeline gushed water in a small river that washed a tiny portion of the viscera and spent ammunition away. Sparks and flames burnt hazy shapes in his vision, lasting anywhere from half a second to a full minute.

In this little dance of death, it felt like he’d fallen into a rhythm.

There was no rest. No mercy. No respite. Hack. Slash. Parry. Lunge. Block. Dodge. Lean. Feint. Wince. Grunt. Flinch. Yell. Thrust. Swipe. Twist. Roll.

Dismember. Maim. Mutilate. Murder. Kill. Kill. Then kill some more.

_Jaune._

Through the blanket of bloodlust that had fallen on him, he thought he heard something. A name. His name. Who was calling for him? _Was_ anyone calling for him? Had he gone crazy, losing himself in the frenzy of battle?

_Jaune?_

There it was again. He’d heard that voice before. Podium. Hallway. Classroom. Campus. Staff. Teacher. No. Not just any teacher.

“Jaune. Can you hear me?”

Ozpin…Headmaster Ozpin. What was he doing here, talking to Jaune? No. He wasn’t here. Voice. Scroll. Talk. Now.

“Pro…Professor,” he said, weakly raising his shield arm to stop a Death Stalker’s stinger from splitting him in half. He dropped to his knees but kept fighting. He couldn’t stop. There were more Grimm to kill. Always more. Always.

“The Atlas 7th Aerial Fleet has been cleared to bombard the city. They are about to commence a strike on your position.”

_What?_

“I…I don’t understand, Professor,” he said. Why would Atlas fire on the city? There were people here. Living, breathing, fighting people. They would kill them. They would kill his team. They would kill _him_. Why would they be sent out here, just to be killed by their allies’ ships? What the fuck was happening?

“There are too many Grimm in the area, Jaune. Our reinforcements can’t get to you quick enough. There’s no other way. I…I’m sorry.”

In the admittedly short time he’d known the headmaster, Jaune had never heard Ozpin hesitate with his words. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. It was all wrong. Nothing was going right. This wasn’t fair. There wasn’t…he couldn’t…

“No,” he begged, ducking under a Beowolf’s claws to saw off its hind legs, then plant his sword into its howling maw. “Call them off, sir. We can still hold. Please!”

“Jaune…“ Ozpin’s voice was gentle. It reminded Jaune of his mother, whispering hushed assurances after one of his younger sisters had scraped her knees, walking him through how to make pancakes and scrambled eggs on the stove, or enveloping him in a hug after he’d given her a card for Mother’s Day. And even as he jumped back from an Ursa’s swipe that instead cracked a nearby pillar, he felt his eyes grow moist. He wanted out. He wanted to get away from this nightmare of a battle. He wanted to see his family again. He wanted to go home. “…right now, we have a company of men moving to relieve your Strike Team. They will be within seeing distance of Avanti in three minutes. Can you honestly tell me you can hold the town centre until they arrive?”

There was a cry of pain, and Jaune twisted his neck to see Nora slumping to her knees after being flung into a wall. Almost immediately, Pyrrha and Detective Heyman moved to stand in front of her, frantically trying to carve a path for someone else to drag her to safety.

“Jaune?”

He was prompted back to his scroll.

_Can you hold?_

They had to.

_Can you hold?_

They didn’t have a choice.

_Can. You. Hold?_

…

No.

“No,” he whispered.

The bombardment _might_ kill them. The Grimm _would_ kill them. In the end, there was no question.

“No,” he said again, loud enough to make sure Ozpin could hear him. “Send the bombardment…Please…I don’t want to die.”

“I understand, Jaune,” said Ozpin, and Jaune believed him. “I won’t judge you for that, and neither will anyone else here.”

His words hurt. They’d been the exact same words he’d said to BEIJ and CYAN – all pumped up and ready to be the big damn heroes they’d fantasised about being. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Seek shelter, if possible.”

And with that, the connection was terminated before he could say anything back. Jaune screamed to the others, “Ship bombardment incoming! _Everyone! Take cover!”_

“What?” said Detective Burns. “Fuck me! Joel! Get those civvies on the ground, now!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!” called out Detective Heyman. “Cover your heads, people! We’ve got–“

Jaune didn’t listen to the rest. He wouldn’t fall down and cower. Not yet. No matter how set the higher ups had been on firing on the city, he’d still accepted their decision. He’d see this through to the end, even if it meant the end of him. In the gory whirlwind of melee, he spotted Pyrrha. His teammate’s red hair was scorched and flowing freely out of its ponytail. Her bracelet and greaves were dented and scratched. Her weapons and skin were covered in grime and drying blood. Jaune imagined he didn’t look much better than her. When their eyes met, it was only for a split second, but it was enough.

She was just as in the thick of battle as he was. She knew they were all dead. She knew there was only one way to make it through to see tomorrow. And she hated it too.

Jaune kept fighting.

He kept fighting even though his arms shrieked in protest and his legs felt like they were dragging anvils. When a Boarbatusk ripped his sword out of his hand, he fought with his shield, pummelling that same Boarbatusk twice in quick succession and leaving it twitching with blood and black mist flowing out of its head.

He kept fighting when he heard the whine of laser battery fire.

He kept fighting when the world flickered white and crimson.

He kept fighting when the sounds of explosions and screams tore at his ears and heart.

The air became unbearably hot before rushing outwards. The concussive force hit. What little intact glass that was left shattered. Objects and beings were sent flying. He hit something. Many things. His aura fragmented, then vanished. He lost control of his senses. But he still felt pain. There was pain. So much pain.

Then utter darkness.

* * *

**Codex Entry: The Bombardment of Vale**

**The following is the transcript of a transmission between Liaison Airship-880 (Callsign Oracle 5-1) and _ASA Cataphract_ ’s Fire-Control.**

**Oracle 5-1:** Cataphract, Cataphract. This is Oracle 5-1. Fire mission. Over.

**ASA Cataphract:** Oracle 5-1. This is Cataphract. Fire mission. Out.

**5-1:** Grid Papa Foxtrot 528 127. Over.

**C:** Grid Papa Foxtrot 528 127. Out.

**5-1:** One thousand plus Grimm. Multiple heavy hitters in the open. Danger close. At my command. Over.

**C:** One thousand plus Grimm. Multiple heavy hitters in the open. Danger close. At my command. Out.

**5-1:** Three Mk52s, PL1, three rounds. Over.

**C:** Three Mk52s, PL1, three rounds. Out.

…

**C:** Oracle 5-1. Cataphract is ready to fire. Out.

**5-1:** Fire.

**C:** Shot. Over.

**5-1:** Shot. Out.

…

**5-1:** Splash. Over.

**C:** Splash. Out.

…

**5-1:** Cataphract. Repeat. Over.

**C:** Oracle 5-1. Say again your last. Over.

**5-1:** Copy, Cataphract. Repeat, repeat.

**C:** Are you…Roger that.

…

**C:** Shot. Over.

**5-1:** Shot. Out.

…

**5-1:** Splash. Over.

**C:** Splash. Out.

…

**5-1:** Cataphract, this is Oracle 5-1. End of mission. Estimate nine hundred plus Grimm casualties. Over.

**C:** Oracle 5-1, this is Cataphract. End of mission. Estimate nine hundred plus Grimm casualties…May the gods have mercy on us. Out.

**5-1:** Solid copy, Cataphract. Oracle 5-1 Out.


	8. Chapter 8

Jaune cracked open his eyes, then shut them quickly to as he was blinded by an unnaturally intense beam of light. He couldn’t hear anything, save for a dull ringing in his ears. He braced himself, then tried looking again. Everything was too blurry to make out. He couldn’t move his limbs. His neck ached when he tried to turn right. There was something wet in his mouth. It tasted metallic. Blood.

His back was killing him. His legs felt prickly. He was having trouble breathing. There were echoes of…something coming back to him. He felt his heart thumping against his ribs. His fingers twitched. He tried to focus on the noise, whatever it was. It sounded urgent. The light was getting dimmer, and he felt like scratching at his throat. His stomach twisted this way and that, and he swore his intestines were constricting into themselves. His head started to throb.

He could hear it now. Shouts. Screams. Moans. They were crying. Who was crying? He didn’t know.

“–d. Kid, you still with me? Just hang in there.”

A flash of annoyance ran through him. Who the hell was calling him ‘kid’? He felt like he should have known who it was. He croaked out something resembling a curse at the voice.

“On three. One, two, three!”

All of a sudden, he could breathe normally again. He took in a gulp of air, before groaning as his chest started to burn.

“Woah, woah. Take it easy, there.”

This voice was different. Still familiar. Less annoying. Slowly, his vision stopped swimming, and he found himself looking at Detectives Burns and Heyman. Red and black stained their white shirts. Detective Burns had one eye closed under a trickle of blood, and part of Detective Heyman’s exposed left arm had blisters dotting angry brown patches of his skin. Jaune tried to wave them off, then started hacking as his throat closed.

“It looks like your aura was shattered,” said Detective Heyman. Jaune wanted to tell him ‘no shit’, but was too busy getting some more oxygen into his body. Then he noticed his surroundings.

Everything was fucked.

There was rubble all over the place. Countless Grimm were weakly clawing their way in an aimless direction, twitching on the floor, or just plain dead, disintegrating in suffocating clouds of smoke. Gunshots rang out, with the few who were lucid and on their feet dispatching the creatures that still dared to draw breath. But there were other bodies. Bodies of people.

Jaune saw a man, face covered in burns and his clothes layered in soot, clutching at his torso where a metal beam had pierced him straight through. He appeared conscious, but only barely.

There was a lady hunched over another person, having shielded them from the blast that had knocked Jaune out earlier. The skin on her back had been almost literally ripped off by heat and fragmentation. Yet she remained still. She was crying out in pain, but she kept holding herself over whoever she’d been so desperate to protect.

A leg was lying not too far away from Jaune. It’d been cut off at the mid-thigh. He found its owner propped up against a bench. He’d lost everything beneath the waist, leaving chunks of meat and pieces of bone sticking out where his groin should have been. But he was smiling, trying to comfort another man who was holding his hand and weeping in sorrow.

He saw a girl shuffling back and forth. One of her legs was limp. Every now and then, she’d crouch down and feel about the floor. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but judging by her increasingly desperate screams, it must have been important.

There was a young man lying flat on his back. Someone was trying to administer CPR to him. But their arms were trembling, botching the chest compressions and most likely just bruising and cracking his ribs without achieving the circulation that he desperately needed.

There were so many of them. They were in so much pain. They were suffering because of him. Because he’d told Ozpin to let the ships fire. It was him…all him…

He had to move.

Not listening to the two officers, Jaune sat up and pushed through the wave of nausea that hit him to get himself back on his feet. The ground shuddered, as a building on the streets outside started to fall, its foundations sundered and unable to keep holding it up. There was a tremendous crash, and a wave of dust swept through the area. Jaune grunted and shut his eyes, blindly throwing out an arm to find something to keep himself steady. His elbow hit something sharp, and he whimpered.

When the dust settled down, he kept walking – to where, he didn’t know. Absentmindedly, he became aware of his scroll, which had miraculously remained intact, continuing to relay information. He fumbled with it, not knowing what exactly he wanted to do with it, but desperate to get _someone_ ’s attention. His fingers shook, accidently patching himself into multiple frequencies, one after the other.

_“–pated. I say again, the superwave has dissipated. Raptor Flight, set up an overhead pattern around Avanti. Keep further hostiles away from the LZ.”_

_“This is Hammer 3-2, we’ve got a visual on…holy shit. Let’s move it people. Go! Go!”_

_“Watch Master. Be advised, we are popping green smoke to mark our location. Need CASEVAC birds here ASAP. Over.”_

The smell of scorched earth, infrastructure, and flesh hit him like a truck. He kept walking. Then he started running, stumbling, wobbling.

_“The whole fucking building’s gone down on Argyle Street! We’ll have to circle around. Over.”_

_“Clover 1-Actual. This is Clover 1-2, I’ve got a critical casualty here. If we don’t get him to a combat surgeon in ten Mikes, we’re gonna lose him. Over.”_

_“Shit! Stragglers at our eleven! Open fire! Open fire!”_

The sensations were too much. He tripped, then started dry heaving.

_“Watch Master. This is Otter 3. We’re low on ammo and have sustained over 50% casualties. We cannot, I say again, we_ cannot _continue pushing to Avanti. Over.”_

_“2-2! Set up a blocking position on the southeast! 2-3 has the north! Grax! Ivan! Get the 37A2 up here to cover our right flank! Let’s go! Let’s go!”_

_“Strike Team JNPR. This is Hammer 3-2. We’re about to come through the ground floor now. Do you read? Over.”_

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he saw Pyrrha, bleeding from a cut across her forehead and her face stricken with grief.

She said something, but he couldn’t make it out. His ears were starting to buzz. His peripherals grew darker. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel.

When she pulled him into a hug, he recognised it was as much for her own rattled state as it was for his. Initially, he tried to squirm out of it. But after a few seconds, the fight left his muscles, and he let the tears fall. She was crying too. He screamed into her shoulder, not even sure what he was yelling. She might have been doing the same, but he couldn’t tell. His clothes and armour felt so heavy. He wanted to undo the straps on his shield arm, but didn’t have the strength.

In the last few moments, before he slipped into unconsciousness a second time, Jaune willed himself to listen again. He was responsible for this. He needed to hear the sounds of death and destruction he’d allowed Atlas’ ships to wreak on their city. He didn’t care if it’d been necessary. He needed to hear them suffer.

And so, he listened to the desperate shouts and anguished cries. He listened to the crunch and clatter of falling debris. He listened to his and Pyrrha’s sobs as they surveyed the devastation around them. He listened to the sound of roaring jets and thundering boots heralding the arrival of Atlesian troops. He listened…

And then he let go.

* * *

**Codex Entry: N/A**


	9. Chapter 9

James tried not to flinch when he heard the numbers. He succeeded, but only barely.

Three days had passed since the Breach. With Vale’s reinforcements, they’d crushed the Grimm’s advance and pushed the creatures back to their point of entry. The hole had been sealed, and then they’d had time to start counting.

He was in another conference. The people were similar: himself, Kenchiro, Ozpin, the CSC, Secretary Windsor, Commissioner Laghari, the Vale Council, and this time the Atlas Council and the JCS. The upper echelon of two of the most powerful Kingdoms in Remnant were present. And they were here to discuss a failure.

That the city and the majority of its inhabitants still remained was an accomplishment. But it was also the bare minimum of what their efforts should have yielded. The Breach should have never happened in the first place. Mountain Glenn was meant to have been the last time, the last instance in which their citizens were subjected to a large-scale attack. Something had gone wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. They’d failed to prevent the Breach. And for that, their people had suffered immensely.

Aside from the area around the Breach, and the places subjected to bombardment, there had been only minor damage to the city’s infrastructure. It would take time, but they would rebuild.

Casualty reports were not as bright. Over eight thousand dead, thirteen of whom had been killed in the 7th Fleet’s barrage. Tens of thousands were wounded, missing, or rendered homeless. The VPD was gutted, having lost over a quarter of its officers. Dozens of soldiers were killed in action, although Vale’s troops had fared better than Atlas’, as they’d arrived later in the fight to turn the tide.

Twenty two students had lost their lives in the defence of Vale. Having been inserted ahead of the main force, they’d born witness to the heaviest fighting. Six of those lost had been James’ own students. One fully-fledged Huntsman had been killed, and another so badly crippled that they would never fight again.

He tried to burn the names into his memory as they scrolled before his eyes. But there were just too many.

* * *

“We have come to determine the White Fang was behind the Breach,” said Ozpin.

“The White Fang?” Councillor Meesh echoed. “How?”

“It appears they’d established a base in what was assumed to have been the defunct and sealed underground line to Mountain Glenn. When they were compromised by one of my student teams, they started a train filled with explosives and blew a hole into the Residential District.”

“They had assistance from various organised criminal elements, who were planning to sabotage Vale’s automated defences around the Breach,” added James. “Even though it happened ahead of schedule, they were able to disable enough of the city’s anti-air batteries to give the flying Grimm a path into the Residential District. They were also planning to sow chaos with roughly three platoons’ worth of M290s, but those were thankfully destroyed in the initial explosion when the train detonated.”

A cold fury was boiling in his stomach. The White Fang had been a headache for his Kingdom for years. Crush one cell and see another one rise. Storm a hideout or headquarters and find it empty or booby-trapped. Eliminate or arrest a leader and have them turn into a martyr or victim. Whatever sympathy he may have had for their initially noble and virtuous call for equality had been overridden when they started their indiscriminate killings and acts of terror. And now, they were responsible for the largest loss of life since the Fall of Mountain Glenn.

As part of Atlas’ declaration of unrestricted action against the terrorist organisation, they’d tried to convince the rest of The Big Four to take further measures (which may also include facilitating an Atlesian presence within their borders) to ensure their own safety. Vale had been the only Kingdom to react positively to the request, due to their already strong military and political ties with Atlas. Yet still, they’d been unknowingly harbouring an entire cell of the White Fang right under their noses.

Although, Atlas hadn’t come out of the incident looking much better. How the hell the White Fang had managed to yank a dozen of their newest Battlesuits was a mystery James was not looking forward to trying to solve. There was clearly a security breach in logistics or research that indicated their military wasn’t as immune to corruption or coercion as it wanted everyone to believe.

“Which team was responsible for uncovering the operation?”

“It was Team RWBY, accompanied and overseen by Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck.”

There was a pause, as Vale’s Council seemed to be reading over the profile of the aforementioned students. When the Kingdom’s leaders looked back up, they were frowning.

“Correct me if I am wrong, Headmaster,” said Councillor Severax. “But are you aware that Team RWBY is a first-year team?”

James blinked. He wasn’t privy to each and every detail of how Beacon Academy was run, but he did know that first-years were to be sent on missions in low-risk zones only. Mountain Glenn was definitely _not_ a low-risk zone. He did a quick scan of the list of fatalities, trying to see if anyone from Team RWBY was on it, but found none of their names.

To his fellow headmaster’s credit, Ozpin didn’t hesitate with his response, giving a flat, “Yes.”

“And are you aware that Mountain Glenn was an area permitted for use by third- and fourth-year teams only?”

“I am, Councillor,” said Ozpin. “And I do not deny my actions. I will only say that Team RWBY is a group of exceptional students, whose abilities and dedication rival their seniors. I trusted them to keep themselves safe and would not have hesitated to recall them back to Beacon, had Dr Oobleck decided they were unfit for Mountain Glenn.”

“This isn’t a matter of trust, _Headmaster_ ,” said Councillor Severax, whose voice had gained a steely edge. “These regulations are in place to facilitate the growth of our future protectors. If they’d fallen to the White Fang or the resulting Grimm, we would’ve had another four dead children, the bodies of which we may have never even been able to find and bury, all because _you_ think you can bypass–“

Before he could continue on his tirade, Councillor Severax was cut off by Councillor Harper.

“While Headmaster Ozpin’s insubordination is most certainly cause for concern, that’s not the purpose of this meeting.”

Councillor Severax remained tense. James could see him clenching his jaw, and he couldn’t blame him. Team RWBY had effectively been at ground zero when the Breach had appeared. Miraculously, they’d emerged with the best attainable result anyone could have hoped for. That is, they’d all come back alive and accounted for. But there was no way Ozpin could have guaranteed that.

Eventually, the Councillor nodded tightly, and returned to an upright position in his chair.

“Secretary Hellbraun,” Councillor Harper continued. “What is the current state of Vale’s ability to handle future incursions from the White Fang?”

The man in question tilted his head downwards.

“While our remilitarisation, in addition to Atlas’ intervention, may have saved our Kingdom, the bulk of our forces still remain unprepared to engage in irregular warfare.”

Councillor Harper nodded, then turned to address the Atlas Council and JCS.

“Speaking hypothetically for now, how prepared and willing would Atlas be to send additional military aid to the Kingdom of Vale?”

The Atlas Council looked at each other, and James exchanged glances with Kenchiro. What was the Vale Council planning?

“We…may need some more elaboration, Councillor,” one of his government heads asked. Councillor Harper nodded.

“It is the Vale Council’s opinion that the Breach has shown us our Kingdom still requires more time and experience to develop its own military. In particular, we have noted the critical role the Atlas 7th played in allowing our troops to properly respond to the Grimm. In essence, we are prepared to both request for Atlas to take complete control over security of the Vytal Festival and allow Atlesian troops to occupy Valean soil to assist in eliminating the White Fang.”

* * *

The rest of the conference passed by in a blur, with the two Councils going over preliminary details that could lead to an official agreement.

Atlas was prepared to provide Vale with the entirety of Admiral Eleanor Hollandale’s 3rd Aerial Fleet and its 3rd Marine Expeditionary Brigade, as well as round out the 15th IBCT by bringing in the rest of the 4th Infantry Division (composed of the 10th and 16th IBCTs, a company from the 9th Motorised Regiment, 1st Battalion of the 10th Field Artillery Regiment and additional personnel from the 20th Brigade Support Battalion), supplemented by the 4th HBCT (Heavy Brigade Combat Team) and elements of the AHC. With this ‘second wave’, they would guard the Vytal Festival and ensure not a single entity would threaten Vale for the duration of the celebrations, exhibitions, and tournaments. Afterwards, arrangements would be made to send more soldiers and vessels over to create a proper anti-terrorism task force.

Once more, they were sending troops into a foreign Kingdom. It was the 7th Aerial Fleet all over again. Not even a week prior, James would have blanched at their escalating presence in Vale, but not today. He still didn’t like it. However, right now, Vale was vulnerable. Its people were ravaged and terrified. The government had failed to ensure the safety of its citizens. They needed guidance. They needed protection. They needed strength.

They needed Atlas.

As the meeting came to a close, and the various government and military heads disappeared from the holotable, it was eventually just James, Kenchiro, and Ozpin left. A silence had settled between the three of them.

After this, he doubted anything would be the same between himself and Beacon’s headmaster. But he had to try to make him understand.

“This is the right move, Ozpin,” he said. “I promise, I _will_ keep our people safe. You have to trust me.”

He was saying this as much to himself, as he was to Ozpin. When he didn’t reply immediately, James was ready to cut his own transmission and leave it at that. However, before he could, Ozpin said, “I trust you to bring more of your men and ships, James. But can I trust you to use them?”

 _Can I trust you will know_ how _to use them?_

James wanted to say yes. He wanted to assure Ozpin so badly. But he couldn’t. That would be a lie. And he couldn’t lie to his friend. It wouldn’t work.

Then he looked at the list of the dead. So many names. So many of them so young. So many lives snuffed out in the span of a few brutal hours, never to be seen again. So many mothers, daughters, sons, and fathers. Some of them his own people and students. All gone. He wouldn’t let this happen again. On his life he swore, there _would_ be peace. And he gave his answer. Could Ozpin trust him?

“You’ll have to.”

* * *

**Codex Entry: Military and Huntsmen Fatalities from the Breach of Vale**

**15 th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (Atlas Army)  
** **2 nd Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment  
**SGT Daren Viridian (26): 2nd Squad, 3rd Platoon, C Company  
SPC Rorn Barker (22): 1st Squad, 1st Platoon, B Company  
PFC Connor Sterling (24): 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, A Company  
PFC Emile Gusteau (22): 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, A Company  
 **1 st Battalion, 11th Infantry Regiment  
**2LT Amberly Oswald (23): Platoon HQ, 1st Platoon, C Company  
FSG Martin Sycamore (25): Platoon HQ, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SSG Eileen Valentine (26): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SGT Merrick Lerouge (22): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SGT Kieran Woodrow (23): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SPC Jürgen Granite (22): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company,  
SPC Russel Pulsar (21): Weapons Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SPC Seraph Nightingale (24): 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, B Company  
SPC Antonio Verde (22): Weapons Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
PFC Fluro McCamish (20): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
PFC Gary Marsh (21): Platoon HQ, 1st Platoon, C Company  
PFC Rentora Mesan (23): 2nd Squad, 3rd Platoon, A Company  
PFC Nam Pa-Ran (21): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
 **3 rd Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment  
**SPC Ashley Rossendale (21): 3rd Squad, 3rd Platoon, B Company  
SPC Henrith Kandros (24): 2nd Squad, 1st Platoon, B Company  
PFC Cassandra Carter (23): 1st Squad, 3rd Platoon, B Company  
PFC Solomon Green (21): 2nd Squad, 2nd Platoon, A Company

 **5 th Marine Expeditionary Unit (Atlas Marines)  
** **1 st Battalion, 19th Marine Infantry Regiment  
**SGT Hoag Derim (27): 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, C Company  
SGT Braxton Sirus (25): 2nd Squad, 1st Platoon, B Company  
CPL Matthew Hoi (21): 1st Squad, 1st Platoon, A Company  
CPL Canis Oas (22) :3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, C Company  
LCPL Song Cho-Rok (22): Weapons Squad, 2nd Platoon, C Company  
LCPL Samuel Licht (23): 1st Squad: 3rd Platoon, C Company  
LCPL Chelsey Ultra (22): 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, C Company  
PFC Salvor Grey (20): 2nd Squad, 1st Platoon, A Company

 **Carrier Air Wing 7 (Atlas Navy)  
** LCDR Phillip Scran (32): Strike Fighter Squadron 18  
LT Kurt Shal (26): Strike Fighter Squadron 20  
LT Antares Siegler (29): Strike Fighter Squadron 18  
LT Mary-Ann Stenton (27): Strike Fighter Squadron 23

 **1 st Aviation Regiment (Vale Army)  
**CW4 Brighton Walker (43): 1st Platoon, B Company, 2nd Battalion  
SSG Anaran Jimenez (28): 1st Platoon, B Company, 2nd Battalion  
SSG Amelie Soleil (32): 1st Platoon, B Company, 2nd Battalion

 **2 nd Aviation Regiment (Vale Army)  
**CW4 Trent Yugure (39): 2nd Platoon, C Company, 2nd Battalion  
SFC Mirage Celestica (31): 2nd Platoon, C Company, 2nd Battalion  
SSG Fabien Sostra (27): 1st Platoon, C Company, 2nd Battalion

 **5 th Aviation Regiment (Vale Army)  
**SSG Craylon Sif (30): 1st Platoon, B Company, 1st Battalion

 **11 th Aviation Regiment (Vale Army)  
**CW3 Nireen Harker (38): 2nd Platoon, A Company, 3rd Battalion

 **1 st Infantry Division (Vale Army)  
** **1 st Battalion, 1st Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Brigade Combat Team  
**SPC Raymond Archibald (23): 1st Squad, 1st Platoon, C Company  
SPC Sarah Mattock (23): 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, A Company  
 **3 rd Battalion, 5th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Brigade Combat Team  
**PFC Phal Moresby (22): 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, B Company

 **5 th Infantry Division (Vale Army)  
** **2 nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment, 8th Infantry Brigade Combat Team  
**SGT Charlie Schwarz (27): 2nd Squad, 3rd Platoon, B Company  
PFC Mox Shen (20): 1st Squad, 3rd Platoon, B Company

 **2 nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade (Vale Marines)  
** **3 rd Battalion, 5th Marine Infantry Regiment  
**LCPL Dennis Scarborough (21): 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon, A Company

 **Atlas Academy (Atlesian Students)  
** Omar Grigio (18): Team OPAL, Strike Team HART  
Leslie Hauptmann (17): Team NOBL, Strike Team INDG  
Bentley Marionette (17): Team NOBL, Strike Team INDG  
Narinci Mell (20): Team INDG, Strike Team INDG  
Qara Mell (17): Team QURZ, Strike Team INDG  
Archer Ryse (17): Team WATR, Strike Team HART

 **Beacon Academy (Valean Students)  
** Samir Allor (18): Team SAGE, Strike Team SAGE  
Ethan Cinereous (19): Team LAKE, Strike Team BRYT  
Musera Dawn (17), Team UMBR, Strike Team SAGE  
Anthony Dunkel (17): Team CYAN, Strike Team CFVY/JNPR  
Oren Goodman (17): Team MOON, Strike Team HEAT  
Erwin Hoplite (17): Team BEIJ, Strike Team CFVY/JNPR  
Urith Jantress (17): Team UMBR, Strike Team SAGE  
Randall Makari (17): Team UMBR, Strike Team SAGE  
Solar Ontarion (18): Team SIMR, Strike Team SAGE  
Lilith Ral (19): Team MILD, Strike Team HEAT  
Isabella Rork (18): Team SIMR, Strike Team SAGE  
Begter Selei (17): Team UMBR, Strike Team SAGE  
Jasper Stratos (17): Team BEIJ, Strike Team CFVY/JNPR

 **Haven Academy (Mistralian Students)  
** Glint Crenshaw (17): Team GHST, Strike Team RAIN  
Xanh Ngo (17): Team GLXY, Strike Team RAIN

 **Shade Academy (Vacuoan Students)  
** Pluto Donnelly (17): Team HARP, Strike Team MELD

 **Huntsmen of Vale  
** Bennett Fleyton (34)


	10. Epilogue

The twitter of birds and bustle of people outside their dorm floated through their open window. It’d been left that way for a while, days perhaps. No one could be bothered to close it.

Jaune blinked slowly as he stared at the ceiling fan from his bed. It wasn’t on, but if he looked close enough, he thought he saw the blades turning ever so slightly.

Ren was meditating on a mat he’d laid out on the floor, and Nora was resting her head on his shoulder. Usually, she would have been bouncing all over the place, poking him here and there and trying to get him give her a piggyback while he tried to ignore her. Not today.

Pyrrha was at her desk, textbook open and pen in hand. She’d been on the same page for over half an hour.

None of them spoke. None of them wanted to speak.

Thanks to their auras, JNPR had been discharged and free to return to Beacon after only a day of rest and recovery in Doss Memorial Hospital. The Breach had been sealed. They’d done their duty as Huntsmen in training. They’d sacrificed more than most could ever imagine. And now, they were meant to return to their normal lives at Beacon. Normal lives with normal studies, normal routines, and normal…just normal stuff.

They rarely left their room. Classes had been cancelled for now. And until they started back up, food was their only calling. They ate quickly, then returned to their quarters. Staff came by regularly to check on them and the other remaining teams. When that happened, they’d give brief answers. Yes, we’re fine. Thank you. Have a nice day, Professor.

They were trying to handle the stress, the suffocating atmosphere. Ren and Nora found solidarity in each other. Pyrrha was trying to get back into a cycle. Jaune…wasn’t sure what his coping mechanism was, or if he even had one. If he did, it was doing a piss poor job, as every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was rolling the dice on whether he’d be greeted with a comforting darkness, or the flaming hell of last week.

* * *

“Hey, Jaune…”

The voice was muted, but to him it felt like someone had jammed a taser to his arm.

They were visiting Irisa before heading back to campus. Her lower form was covered by hospital sheets. None of them had the courage ot ask how many limbs she had left. Baylee was at her side, head resting in her own arms and in a restless slumber. They’d chosen to leave her be.

When they’d talked, he’d felt his stomach churn and had the sudden urge to throw up. It didn’t take him long to realise he was feeling guilt. Irisa must have sensed his distress because she’d smiled. It had traces of pain, but still exuded a level of tranquility that he could only have dreamed of achieving. She’d tried to assure them that she and Baylee didn’t blame them for what had happened. How could they, when they hadn’t even ordered the ships to fire? Jaune wished he could agree with her sentiment.

He hadn’t heard the door open, but he did hear Ruby calling out to him.

JNPR found themselves staring at what might as well have been a mirror. Different though they may have been in quirks, skills, attires and aspirations, today they all looked the same. Dark rings had formed under their eyes, symbolising the eerie, sleepless nights they’d experienced. Their backs were slightly hunched, and their heads bowed. The muscles in their faces and hands twitched in response to things they’d never have perceived as a threat before: a sudden flash of light from a newfound angle, a coughing exhaust from an old car, the static of a radio or television.

Yang had immediately gone to Irisa and given her a hug, uncharacteristically silent and with a strength that went so much deeper than brute force or bravado. Blake and Weiss had hung back, eyes flicking this way and that, almost as if they were guarding the door in anticipation for some unseen lurking entity that was ready to jump out and maul the lot of them.

He’d spoken with Ruby, hearing her side of the story. Hearing of how they’d tried so desperately to stop the train. How they’d fought so hard to just get to a better fighting position when the Grimm had started pouring into the city. How they’d relied so helplessly on Doctor Oobleck to keep them focused and driven to just see the battle through, to not fall to despair at the destruction they’d failed to stop and could only now try to stymie. He’d shared his side too. From the mobilisation to the bombardment, he’d told her everything. And she’d listened with a maturity that no one her age should have ever possessed.

The sound of rustling fabric and Yang’s subsequent exhale of breath caused them both to look over at Irisa’s bed. The sheet had been pulled to one side, giving them the answer to the question that had been left unasked.

There were a pair of stumps.

* * *

When they’d parted ways, he’d seen Ruby hesitate. Her lower lip had quivered, and for a second, he’d felt the numbness threaten to give way to the tide of emotions he’d been holding back, voluntarily or otherwise. But then it had passed, and she’d given him a tight smile and a small wave. He’d done the same.

Jaune blinked when he heard a knock at their door. The others slowly turned their heads. With a token grunt of effort, he rose into a sitting position and waved off the others to let them know he’d answer.

He was greeted by Headmaster Ozpin, who was accompanied by a pair of Atlesian officers. Unconsciously, he straightened his back and brought his arms to his sides. He wondered if he should salute, but worried he might get it wrong.

“Professor,” he said, internally wincing at how his voice cracked. He’d spoken maybe five words in the last day or so.

“Hello, Jaune,” said Professor Ozpin. “How are you and your team doing?”

Was this another checkup? If so, Jaune was getting tired of them. He wasn’t planning on jumping out the window to snap his neck on the cobblestone beneath. His aura would ensure he’d remain in miserably good health. And besides…

_I don’t want to die._

He mentally shook the haunting words out of his head and tried to smile.

“We’re still sorting through some issues, sir. But we’ll be back to normal soon.”

Ozpin nodded. He didn’t believe Jaune. Hell, Jaune didn’t believe himself. But what else could he do? He’d denied the chance to see a therapist. Not because he didn’t think he needed one, but because there were so many students who’d needed them more.

JNPR and CFVY had emerged from the Breach with all members accounted for. CYAN and BEIJ hadn’t. If his team’s current state was to be labelled as depressing, he didn’t want to think about what Baylee and Conrad were going through right now. So many students had perished in the fighting, most of them first-years like himself who’d had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They’d been brave and righteous in their actions, but also arrogant – so ready to jump in the fire with symbols of heroism and adventure to inflate their egos. When the real fighting had started, they’d been caught off guard, disarmed and overwhelmed. And they’d left their teammates, friends and families to grieve.

Jaune needed an outlet. He needed one so bad, sometimes he felt like he was about to burst. However, Beacon only had so many mental health specialists on hand. More were being called in, but they needed time to arrive and set up a temporary residence. He wouldn’t deny that he’d suffered, but he still had his teammates. He had to be thankful for that at least.

His morbid thoughts were interrupted when Professor Ozpin went to introduce the other two men.

“This is General Ironwood, headmaster of Atlas Academy, and Vice Admiral Yamazaki of the Atlas Navy. They have told me they wish to speak with your team.”

It didn’t take long to connect the dots. It was an Atlesian ship that had fired on Vale, Atlesian weapons that had killed so many and damn near killed him, and unless he was mistaken, the Atlesian officers before him that had ordered the bombardment.

The surge of feelings that came forth felt like trying to down a gallon of water after being stranded in the desert for a week. Anger, denial, guilt, shame, fear, envy, grief, and so much more. It was too much.

“Jaune?”

He’d gone for his sword. Or at least he would have if Crocea Mors had been strapped to his waist. His right hand was grasping air. He didn’t know what he would have done if there’d been a blade. Would he have attacked the men before him, knowing full well they or Ozpin would have stopped him before he could have even taken a step? Would he have started swinging it wildly around him, returning to Avanti and the final moments before the laser batteries had fired? Would he have flung it out the window, then screamed at everyone that he was done, that he’d quit?

The three men were looking concernedly at him. But Jaune could also feel their caution. They could see he wasn’t exactly stable. He glanced back into the dorm and saw his teammates, who’d risen from their seated positions when they’d seen Ozpin. They’d heard him introduce Ironwood and Yamazaki, and he knew they’d made the connection too.

All of them knew the bombardment had been necessary. They just wished it hadn’t been. What physical wounds and ailments that had healed merely concealed the mental and emotional scars of the Breach. When the Grimm had appeared, they’d been thrown out into the streets with their weapons and the juxtaposing orders to kill and protect. It was what they’d been training for. It was the life they’d chosen. It was their duty.

With every ounce of strength, they’d fought, they’d bled, and some of them had died – all in the defence of the people of Vale. It was what they’d signed up for. But they hadn’t been strong enough. And their weakness had entailed a brutal rain of fire from Atlas, the instigators of which were standing right before him.

Apparently, he’d been ruminating for too long, because Vice Admiral Yamazaki said, “if this isn’t a good time, we can–“

“No.”

Jaune was surprised to hear the word coming from his own mouth.

“I mean no, sir,” he hastily corrected, recognising the potential repercussions of being curt with such a high-ranking official.

His teammates were hurting. He was hurting. Day in, day out, they’d been plagued by the Breach. By what they’d done, what they could have done, and what they’d let be done.

He didn’t know why the two officers wanted to see JNPR. Did they want to apologise? Let them vent? Order them to stay silent about the whole incident? It could be for any number of reasons. But they were with Ozpin. And if Jaune couldn’t trust the Atlesians, he was at least comforted by his headmaster’s presence. They were either going to have a very long, or very short talk. He wanted to see which one it would be.

So, with a deep breath, he backed away from the door and let them in.

* * *

**Codex Entry: Letter**

**The following is a letter from Bennett Fleyton, Huntsman of Vale, who was killed in action during the Breach of Vale. It was discovered amongst his personal effects, and is addressed to his wife, Tanya Fleyton.**

_Tanya,_

_If you’re reading this, I’m no longer alive. And for that, no amount of words can express how sorry I am, or let you forgive me for the grief and sorrow my departure has caused you._

_Honestly, there are a lot of embarrassing ways to go out. I can only hope that my end was the culmination of an outstanding bout of heroics. Who knows? I might’ve even gotten a medal for all my troubles. Or maybe I just ate something really bad and couldn’t get my stomach pumped in time._

_But seriously, there’s something I want to tell you. Something I’ve told you so many times already, and you’ve said back to me so many more._

_I love you. Through every waking moment, and with every fibre of my being, I love you, Tanya._

_And I know you’re strong. But please don’t let that strength weigh you down. If you want to laugh, then laugh. If you want to cry, then cry. If you want to scream out to the skies, then scream with all your might. And never,_ ever _, lose that spark of life that made you into the beautiful, amazing, stunning woman I fell so thoroughly and so helplessly for._

_It will be difficult. I can’t say it won’t be. But in time, I want you to move on, and live your own life. Travel where you want to go. Try new things and meet new people. Find another partner worthy of your affection. Keep growing, write a book, learn to play an instrument, have children. Be ready to admit when you’re sad, but in the end, do whatever makes you happy. Live long and live well._

_Give my Ma and Pa a hug for me. Stay in touch with Gordon and Ollie._

_I don’t know if there’s an afterlife, or if I’ll be worthy enough to be accepted into it. But I do know this: For what it’s worth, and no matter what happens in the future, I’ll always be with you._

_Now once more, for the last time in writing, but never in spirit. I love you._

_Ben_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final codex entry left for next chapter, but this story is effectively finished.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Codex Entry: Interview of Qrow Branwen (98 AGW – 11 Years After Salem’s Defeat)**

Should they have been here? No.

This whole thing with Salem, with Ozpin, with the Maidens and the Relics and all that shit…it needed to be handled with finesse…with tact. But here comes General James ‘Fucking’ Ironwood, all puffed up with righteousness, delivering a whole bucket of his toy ships and soldiers right on our doorstep. And those idiots in our government just let him in with their wagging tongues. Result? – All the hardware you could ask for in the world, just waiting to be jacked and turned against us.

But…when everything went to hell. When that little android girl was cut to pieces and we all collectively crapped ourselves. When the White Fang and Grimm started pouring into the city. When we all fell nice and neatly into that bitch’s trap, those Atlesians fought. In the first few hours, when chaos reigned, they fought with a confused desperation, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. When the higher ups started getting their shit together, and the enormity of what was happening came crashing down on their heads, they fought with anger, determined to make those assholes pay for killing their buddies. And when we saw that we’d lost, that we had to pull back and regroup, they fought with a stubborn tenacity to get as many people out of the crumbling city as they could.

During the battle, they were shot, stabbed, and ripped apart, just like the rest of us. Whereas another force might have ran off or broken ranks, they stayed strong. Through loss after encumbering loss, they kept the fire of our fighting spirit burning bright into the night and the following dawn. When the evac shuttles finally came for the wounded and frightened, they stayed behind as long as they could, just to get that one more civilian or critical out of the killzones.

So, yeah. I wish I’d never seen those Atlesians. I wish they’d stayed in their own damned continent and let us work things out in a way that didn’t result in half our Kingdom being reduced to rubble. But I also respect that, when there was no hope, when everything seemed lost and our backs were against the wall, they were there for us.

And Jimmy? If you ever watch this…for the record, if I was one of your men, I’d still shoot myself. But now, I’d at least give you a salute before I did it.

* * *

**The Fall of Beacon**

**24/01/2021**


End file.
